


I Don't Believe In Love At First Fight

by captainrighthook



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angels, F/F, F/M, FOB, Fae & Fairies, Ghosts, M/M, MCR, Magic, Multi, Sexual Content, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainrighthook/pseuds/captainrighthook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Frankly, this story changes every other chapter.]<br/>[Shut the fuck up, no it doesn't!]<br/>[Yes, Gerard, it does.]<br/>[No, Mikey, it doesn't.]<br/>[Hey! Both of you! SHUT UP!]<br/>[MAKE US!]<br/>[Honestly, I don't know what to do with myself half of the time...you're all hopeless.]<br/>[Whateven, Bob.]<br/>[Let's get back to what's important, shall we? The story! What is it all about?]<br/>[Vampires...]<br/>[And Wizards...]<br/>[And Werewolves...]<br/>[OH MY!]<br/>[...]<br/>[Sorry...it had to be done.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shoes, OCD, and Blind Dates

 

** 2 HOURS BEFORE THE PARTY **

 

Mikey’s small voice broke through Gerard’s intense train of thought, “Going tonight?” He was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall, sketching, with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Gerard’s eyes snapped into focus, and he groaned at being interrupted. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth he exhales a stream of smoke before putting it out in the tray next to his bed. He just leans back and stares at Mikey, expectantly.

“Um, tonight?” Gerard asked, slightly confused, and secretly hoping it wasn’t October 20th. Mikey had set him up…on a date…with another human being.

[ **Well, technically I’m not a human being, but okay Gerard…** ]

[ **Shut up, I’m telling a story. Where was I? Oh yeah, the date;** ]

To say the least, it wasn’t exactly a smart idea; Gerard spent as much time as possible in the comfortable confines of his home. He loved being home, doing art, drinking coffee, smoking, writing comics/songs, watching movies ect. He didn’t _have_ to leave the house to be happy, unlike Mikey.

[ **Hey, that’s a dick thing to say!** ]

[ **Next person who interrupts me gets a fork in their eye.** ]

“Tonight,” Mikey confirmed ducking his head slightly. He pulled back the sleeve of his leather jacket to look at his watch, “I’m leaving in ten minutes, Gerard.” There was an unspoken question that lingered between them. Gerard just wanted to pick up another cigarette and pretend he didn’t know what his brother was talking about. _Are you coming, or are you staying home?_ That was what Mikey really wanted to talk to Gerard about.

Gerard shrugged, drawing his knees up to his chest, “Does it seem like a good idea, Mikes?” He asked gazing out the window next to his bed. They both knew the answer to _that_ question. Of course it wasn’t a good idea, but Gerard had to leave the house sometime! Staying there was just out of the question.

Mikey sighed, contemplatively, “Here,” he said going over to Gerard’s dresser and rummaging through it. He pulled out a clean pair of socks and underwear, a brand-spankin’-new white t-shirt, and black jeans.

He tossed the clothes on Gerard’s bed and reached over to pat his brother’s knee affectionately. Mikey smiled slightly, “We can be late, if you’d like. Go take a shower, put these on, and come with me to the party.” The term ‘party’ wasn’t an understatement, but it certainly wasn’t an overstatement.

[ **‘Party’ doesn’t cover it at all, Gerard.** ]

[ **Gah! What did I say?!** ]

[ **Yeah, your fork is real terrifying.** ]

[ **Shut the fuck up, Mikey!** ]

[ **Hey, Frank! What would you even call one of our gatherings? Séance? Exorcism? Pack meeting? Sorry Bob…** ]

[ **That’s a good question. Never thought about it, actually. We’re like a fucking menagerie! Just make up some shit, I don’t know. Make a new word…** ]

[ **A new word?! For ‘party’ or for ‘us’?** ]

[ **Well—** ]

[ **Shut up you _know_ what I meant by ‘us’.** ]

[ **Just make something up when you need to, okay?** ]

[ **You guys are no fucking help at all! _And_ _stop interrupting me or I will fuck your shit up_! Jesus fucking Christ! Back to the story.** ]

To try and explain where they were going? It was too difficult, but Gerard understood nonetheless. “Okay,” he sighed softly, seeing the smile on his brother’s lips; Mikey hardly smiled anymore. He _didn’t_ smile anymore. Well, unless he was referring to Gerard, that is. His brother always brought a smile across his face, even if it was a minute quirk of the lips.

“Good,” Mikey murmured, straightening up and checking his watch again, “I have to make a call,” he said, “come down when you’re ready.” Gerard nodded and watched Mikey turn to leave, only to see him stop just before the door, “Oh, and Gerard?” He asked turning back. Gerard raised his eyebrows, questioningly. “Thank you.” And then he was gone.

Gerard sighed again, but he stood up and went to take a shower anyways. It took longer than normal for Gerard to hop out of the shower, but Mikey knew that’s where Gee did his thinking. There was certainly a lot for Gerard to think about tonight, so he was lenient, even if he was eager to see his friends. Besides, Gerard was fragile and vulnerable— _and_ _dangerous_ —when he felt his safety was being compromised, and it definitely felt compromised going to a social event with so many people.

 _And_ he was supposed to be going on a date. Ha, what a fucking joke.

When Gerard finally _did_ come downstairs, he was wearing what Mikey had given him plus a black ‘Misfits’ sweatshirt. It was slightly small, but Gerard was pretty thin so he didn’t mind. He grabbed his green high-tops and stood, awkwardly, before his brother. Mikey set down the pizza he was eating and gave Gee a once-over. Decent.

“Good,” Mikey said plainly and Gerard smiled at him. Mikey pulled out his keys, wallet, and lucky picture of a scarecrow that Gerard had drawn for him. He went over his items to make sure he had them all before stuffing them back into his tight pockets.  “Ready?” Mikey said, eyeing the shoes that were still in Gerard’s hand.

“No,” Gerard squeaked, looking terrified. Mikey just regarded him with that small smile of his and went outside. Gerard followed obediently, locking the door behind him and getting into the passenger’s seat.

Once settled he waited for Mikey to start driving to pick up a friend before actually putting his shoes on. It was a nervous habit of Gerard’s; well, one of them anyway. Gerard could have from none to fifty nervous habits at any given moment of any day. It all depended on where he was.

Mikey glanced over and quirked a thin, but overly expressive, eyebrow up at him. Gerard just made a small noise of protest and discomfort. “You didn’t give me anything to shield my neck! You get a badass leather jacket and I’m stuck with this bullshit.” He gestured to himself.

Today had been a good day, until he came to the shoes. The shoes always scared Mikey, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it was so normal compared to the other habits. Either way, Gerard didn’t care if it scared Mikey—his shoes were _not_ to be put on before he was in a moving vehicle, and wouldn’t be taken off until he was home in his room again.

“Mikey,” Gerard started quietly as he stared out the window, “Why did they—leave? Forever, I mean.” It was a frequently asked question that received the same half-assed reply every time. Some bullshit about ‘I don’t know, Gerard. I know as much as you do,’ but everyone knew that wasn’t true. Mikey knew everything; after their grandmother died Gerard couldn’t talk—wouldn’t talk—to anyone. It took a few years for him to say anything to Mikey, let alone hold an actual conversation. Donna and Donald Way had left Gerard and Mikey, ages 20 and 17, to fend for themselves.

That was a long time ago, and tonight Mikey wasn’t going to lie.

“To be honest, Gee,” he sighed turning onto a side street, “I don’t think they knew they were leaving. Forever, I mean.” There was a hint of a smile in Mikey’s voice, but Gerard didn’t want to look. He was too busy mulling over what his brother had just revealed to him, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.

They’d pulled up to a nice house that was just outside the city and waited for a girl with dark hair to come dashing down her front steps and hop into the backseat. “Hey Mikey! Gerard!” She greeted them breathlessly as she closed the door behind herself.

[ **Hey! That’s me!** ]

[ **Jams…** ]

[ **Fork. Right. Sorry**.]

“Nice to see that you could make it,” she added, with a smile, leaning forward so her head was between the passenger seat and the driver seat. Now Gerard retreated into mute-mode, even though he’d known her for almost five years now.

She turned toward Gerard who avoided her stare, suddenly interested in the decades-old sticker on the dashboard, “Your date will be so excited th—” but she was quickly cut off by Mikey who quietly and politely interrupted her.

“No dates for Gerard, Jams,” he said checking the rearview mirror before moving into another lane that would take them out of the suburbs and into the middle of nowhere…literally.

“Why not!?” She pouted, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. “I barely got him out of the house,” Mikey explained gently, “there was no chance to get him on a date with someone.” Gerard closed his eyes and silently thanked whatever higher power was out there for having a brother like Mikey.

Mikey was a good guy; he never raised his voice unless absolutely necessary, and he never said something mean or hateful to anybody. But that didn’t stop the trace of a smirk in his voice as he spoke. Quite obviously he was proud of himself for getting his brother to leave, and was rewarding himself mentally.

“But he’ll be so disappointed!” Jams whined, “Gee looks so good tonight! It’s not fair!” Okay, yeah, Gerard looked good. Better than good, actually. He looked _stellar_! But that was because he naturally looked very nice…and spent hours in front of a mirror, obsessing over how horrible he always looked.

Gerard’s eyes went wide, and he flushed completely red before turning to look out the window. As the trees and vast forest overtook his vision he couldn’t help but start to count any flecks of dirt he could see in the window; another nervous habit.

Gerard sighed in desperation. Jams and Mikes argued for the rest of the ride—the fucking _45_ _minute_ ride—about the blind date, neither of them giving up until they worked themselves into a fuming silence. It was a silent agreement that Gerard could make that decision for himself, even if they both knew what would end up happening.

To Gerard it was bad enough that he had to go somewhere public with so many…people…but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—say one word to them! He didn’t think he’d imagined feeling so lightheaded, but maybe it was all in his mind. They also agreed that they weren’t going to tell anyone who, or what, Gerard was.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Mikey _finally_ pulled into a parking lot. Well, it was more like a grassy area where cars parked, but, eh, who were they to judge? Gerard looked up from his folded hands in his lap and almost choked; there was a huge black tent with smoke coming from the open door, and a broken mirror at the entrance. He looked over at Mikey, looking dazed.

“I know right?” Mikey said, eyes dancing with amusement, “But we’re going across to the street.” Gerard’s body visibly relaxed with a hint of disappointment. To people who didn’t know Gerard, they would have thought he was scared of this horrifying mysterious tent. Mikey knew better; he could see that his brother was ecstatic upon their arrival.

Gerard sulked in silence as he got out of the car, and Jams grabbed his arm practically pulling him across the street. Yes, the party was in a bar. However, the building served many purposes—during the daytime and non-performance hours it was a mess hall, poker hall, general commons area, and meeting spot.

At night it was open to those who drove out into the middle of ‘we-could-get-murdered-and-nobody-would-find-us’ territory, and paid to see a haunted carnival that gave you the feeling that you _could_ get murdered and nobody would find you. _That_ was when they served alcohol, because, hey! Who wouldn’t need something numbing to help you forget what you just saw?

Most bars were depressing, but this bar wasn’t one to be dreary and dark, seeing as they tried to balance out the dark depression on one side of the street with happiness and liveliness on the other. It looked bright inside, which worried Gerard. He was afraid he’d approach and see a sign that said, “No. You can’t just come in. NO VERMIN. NO OUTSIDERS. NO UNDESIRABLES.”  He was afraid that the lights would be too bright for him to see, and he’d pass out. He was afraid that everyone in there would look down at him like he was some nocturnal freak and judge him for something he couldn’t help.

But at the same time, Mikey had told Gee that this was a group of natural freaks, so maybe it wasn’t really something new to them. Maybe Gerard would be too normal for them. Oh God! What if he _was_ too normal for them?! He’d never live it down.

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, careful not to smudge his eyeliner. He’d tried to drag Jams backwards the entire way to the door, but Mikey had helped her half way and pushed him from behind so Gerard decided to offer no resistance. When they finally reached the door he had come to a complete stop and listened to all the sounds coming from the thick oak door in front of him.

There _was_ a sign on the front of the door, and for a second Gerard panicked, but then; “Come inside already! You, er, look pretty idiotic just standing there…just an FYI.” Upon reading this he was horrified to find a smile trying to worm its way across his face. Mikey caught his expression and smirked, opening the door for him and Jams.

Gerard rolled his eyes and mentally beat himself for finding that heartwarming.

Ugh.

This was going to be a _long_ evening. 

 


	2. Did I Ever Tell You How I Met My Bestfriend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just wait! It. Gets. Better."

** 48 HOURS EARLIER **

 

“No, no. That’s _completely wrong_ ,” Ray rubbed his brow in frustration hopping out of his chair. He pointed towards the entrance of the tent, “Nate! Go tell Alex and Ryland that, while a giant bouncy castle may be fun, it just doesn’t work for us!” Then he waved his hand dismissively and watch as Nate’s shoulders dropped pathetically before trudging outside.

[ **Ha! Now _I_ get to tell the story. Suck on that Gerard!**]

[ **Aw, shut up, Ray! Nobody likes you anyways…** ]

[ **Ouch. Harsh. Now, now, Gerard. Keep your claws in, this is Ray’s turn.** ]

[ **Thanks Frank.** ]

[ **We’re switching halfway through, though. I want some time to get my side of the story in!** ]

[ **Fine, fine. Now let metell the story! So I was talking about…** ]

Nate was usually the one who talked to Ray about the crazy or strange ideas that Pete or Alex or Ryland came up with, and strangely enough he was typically the one to be most disappointed when the answer was ‘No!’

“Okay then,” Ray sighed, turning on his heel to face the rest of the giant, brightly lit tent. When the lights were on, it didn’t look terrifying in the slightest; in fact, there were yellow flowers strung up on Christmas lights that circled the entire perimeter the tent. They tried to keep the lights on as long as possible because turning them off transformed the civilized carnival tent into a Twilight-Zone mysterious haunted wasteland.

Purple walls, about 10 feet tall, had been set up everywhere to section the space off into various areas of entertainment connected by a maze.

[ **That was a horrible, yet accurate, description of our tent…stop it.** ]

[ **Shut up, Mikey!** ]

[ **Jeez! Try and offer advice and suddenly you—** ]

[ **Shut. Up.** ]

That was the whole idea, actually; The Parade was, essentially, a haunted house. Of course, it was more intense and kept you on edge, but that was beside the point. To his left Ray saw two old tables full of various human body parts—they were plastic, of course…usually—and to his right people were trying to figure out how to set up Brendon’s magic act.

 _Boom_.

Just over the top of the wall in front of him, Ray saw a bright flash of light, and the power in the whole tent flickered off. As he fumbled to grab his flashlight he heard a collective ‘not again’ come from various people around him. It would have been okay to suspect Alex or Pete, but something sounded off when there was a distinct, “ _Shit!_ ” that sounded afterwards.

Ray inched forward, looking for a break in the panels of the wall, but by the time he even spotted it, the lights were on and running. They had literally only been off no longer than five seconds.

“Yo, B!” Ray called resting a hand on the wall. The only response was a faint groan, “What’s up? You trying to set the place on fire on your first day of work?” Ray smiled, but rolled his eyes because could practically hear the blush that flooded Brendon’s face.

He was so innocent; the way he jumped at the smallest of things! The way he stuttered when he talked to anyone, because he felt so confused. He’s like a baby! His purity needed to be protected from the others; namely Pete, Ryland, and Nate. _But_ even if he’d only been with them for 72 hours—only having met Ray, Frank, and Bob—Ray wondered (not for the first time) ‘Why is this my job?’

Even if the lights were on, Ray slid open the panel in front of him only to expose Brendon lying on the ground, and—yep—his face was just as red as Ray had suspected. He groaned again before sitting up and pulling a very dangerous looking wire-exposed cable out from under his leg. “Uh…technical difficulties,” Brendon replied, ducking his head. Ray sighed, by smiled nonetheless.

“What even happened?” Ray asked pointing to the portable electric box that Brendon used to control the effects. He had more than one control box, but this one controlled the lights specifically.

“Just some power problems; nothing that can’t be fixed.” Brendon stood up, taking the box with him and leaving the sizzling cable on the ground. Ray frowned at it and kicked it. It sparked wildly and then went dead. Brendon stood next to him awkwardly, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Ray gave him a sidelong glance before rolling his eyes for the nth time today and turning to face everyone.

“Okay, guys,” he said checking his watch: yep, it was midnight. He clapped his hands together, happily, before continuing, “It is officially one day before we open, and we haven’t eaten anything all week, so I suggest that you…all…go…to,” Ray’s sentence died out; as he was talking everyone completely ignored anything he said after ‘open’ and immediately left the tent to go across the street.

Well…at least Brendon was still there.

“So…we go eat?” He mumbled, turning bright red.

“Yes, Brendon. We go eat, but first turn the lights down to half.” Ray sighed, but this time it wasn’t at Brendon’s obvious social deficit. The lights were down half-way so that they weren’t wasting energy, but could still see where they were going. He was about to usher Brendon out of the tent when someone caught Ray’s eye; Pete.

“Hey, Ray! Wait up!” He called before picking up his pace to meet Ray at the door. It was when Pete caught sight of Brendon that his pace slowed down and his face changed from excitement to shock to smug. Oh no. Ray had to get Brendon out of there, and _fast_. See, Pete took great pride in causing everyone misery, and poor Bren would probably just sit there and take it.

“Go to the bar and eat.” Ray muttered to the awkward man next to him.

“Uh, just by…”

“Yes! By yourself.” He could handle _that_ right?

[ **You know, I find that extremely offensive.** ]

[ **Why?** ]

[ **Because, er, well…** ]

[ **Yeah, B, that’s what I thought.** ]

It was simple enough. And, okay, it wasn’t actually a bar. It served many purposes, as a matter of fact. They ate there, played cards, practiced their acts…laughed at people who failed when practicing their acts. It was all in good fun, really!

Brendon looked utterly frightened and completely embarrassed as Ray shooed him out of the tent, glancing back at Pete, who was still a good twenty feet away. After a final check that Brendon was okay by himself, Ray turned around and was extremely surprised; Pete had stopped dead in his tracks and looked…sad?

“Uh, you okay?” Ray asked. “You look…depressed or something like that.” And suddenly Pete’s entire expression warped just as quickly as it had come.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He asked laughing and clapping Ray on the back. Well, it was good to see that the old Pete was back instead of some scary version that came with emotions.

“Just looked different is all.” Ray shrugged and closed the door to the tent. And it wasn’t really a ‘door’ per say. More along the lines of a piece of tough fabric that got pinned and zippered down from bottom to top of the opening they called the door.

“Well, Ray, my friend.” Pete said stopping again but keeping a firm hold on Ray’s shoulder. “It’s that time.” He looked up to the moon and sighed, “The best time of the year.”

“Okay, wait, what?” Ray shrugged Pete’s arm off and turned to face him. “ _That time_ doesn’t happen until the 31st! It’s only the 19th, so you can just calm the fuck down.”

“But the preparation!” Pete said, exasperated but still smiling.

“Yeah, it only takes, like, a week. Not this long.” Ray’s brows furrowed as Pete stretched in the moonlight and took in a deep breath.

“Not this year, my friend, not this year. There’s something different, and I’m not sure what it is or what it _will_ be, but there’s something completely different coming. I gotta be ready, right?!” _Click_. That was the sound of something in Ray’s mind starting to make sense.

“Is that why you looked depre—weird when you saw Brendon?” He almost let the ‘d’ word slip again. Pete was kinda strange about stuff like that; if you accused him of something he freaked the fuck out. Okay, that’s not entirely true, if you accused him of _being_ something he freaked out. If you accused him of _doing_ something he just giggled like a schoolgirl and blamed the nearest respiring object.

[ **…Fuck you, Ray.** ]

[ **If you’re lucky, princess.** ]

“Yeah. I guess. Not really. Yeah.” Pete’s nose twitched and he shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ll be, er, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Ray gave him an awkward smile. “There is nothing that could happen this year that we couldn’t handle. I promise.” Pete threw his hands into the air and made a frustrated sound.

“Ray!” He exclaimed, “Have you never seen a horror movie? Or _any_ movie in general?!” Ray seemed confused, but only had a vague understanding of where he was going with this.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen Trick ‘r Treat, and Nightmare on Elm Street, and watched Supernatural and—”

“So,” Pete interrupted taking Ray by the shoulders and starting to guide him across the street and towards the door of the lively, brightly lit building. “If you’ve seen all of those then you know the rule, right?” No reply. “Basically, you are _never_ supposed to say something like that! It’s like when someone in a movie says ‘Everything’s fine!’ and they’re being stabbed to death in the next scene! With that mindset we have to tell ourselves that we will _never_ be able to handle whatever’s coming this year. Understand?”

“No.” Ray said matter-of-factly, “But you’re Pete. So I see where you’re coming from.” And that wasn’t a lie in the slightest; Pete was the most superstitious person Ray had ever met, and that was saying a lot considering that everyone in the Parade was special. Especially since Frank was…

[ **Hey! We’re not there.** ]

[ **Well…I guess you’re right**.]

[ **Damn straight!** ]

“Good,” Pete flashed a toothy smile before gesturing towards the door, “Oh, please! Ladies first.” Ray rolled his eyes, and he could barely remember thinking something along the lines of ‘Nobody will ever find out about this. Pete is overreacting. We will never be in a situation we can’t handle. It’s just a fact.’

[ **Dun, dun, dun! Oooo, what’ll happen next?!** ]

[ **Shut the fuck up, Pete**.]

 

 XxXxXxXxXxXxX

[ **Stawp it!** **Okey, okey! My turn!** ]

[ **Take it away, Frank!** ]

“No, he just started pissing everywhere.” Bob said shaking his head, “I’ve never seen anyone that drunk in my entire life, and I’m pretty fuckin’ well-rounded, man. I’ve seen some weird-ass shit.” Without giving it a second though, he pulled a dollar out of his wallet and dropped it in the jar in the center of the table.

It was two in the morning and nobody could sleep. Well, nobody could spend any more time in the bar, so they headed back to their trailers. Alex (Suarez), Ryland, and Nate went back to Alex’s place to, er, sleep. Chantal, Alicia, and Christa went to Jimmy’s trailer—also to sleep. Jimmy, on the other hand, was with Jack, Alex (Gaskarth), and Hayley playing an intense game of guitar hero at Hayley’s. Pete was on his phone, on the other side of the room, desperately working up the courage to say something intelligible (to _anyone_!). Whoever was left consisted of Bob, Ray, Frank, Brendon, and Lyndzey.

They were recalling times when people they used to know did crazy shit, like take a piss on a police car. Bob’s stories were the best, because they seemed to come from nowhere, but were strangely realistic.

“What even happened to him?” Ray asked after recovering from a laughing spasm.

“I think he went to jail for selling crack,” Bob said, shrugging, “But that was after he crucified a head of broccoli, and burned a bunch of Bible’s in a cemetery.” This induced another round of laughter from everyone, “Un-fucking-believable, I’ll tell you.” Bob laughed.

Brendon turned to Frank, “What about you, Frank?” He asked with a big smile.

Frank shrugged, “Well…” he was taking on that tone of I-don’t-have-anything-to-say, but everyone knew that was a lie, and groaned ‘Aw come on, Frank!’ until he finally gave in. “Okay, okay!” He cried, throwing his hands up in defeat, “You guys are like vultures, man.” He shakes his head, settling into his seat, before launching into his story.

“Wait, don’t start yet!” Brendon cried as the phone in his pocket starts buzzing. He takes it out, frowns down at the caller ID and holds up his finger before getting up and walking away.

“Ah, fuck Brendon,” Bob says waving his hand, “tell the damn story.” Everyone whooped and cheered in agreement, and Frank giggled at their animosity towards their youngest friend.

[ **You guys are assholes.** ]

[ **To each his own, Bren. To each his own.** ]

“So, uh, I’ve been trying to avoid telling this story, because…it’s half embarrassing on my part but whatever,” Frank was already laughing at his story as he formulated the best way to tell it. “This was, like, five years ago, so I was fourteen or thirteen. Can’t remember. My friend—this guy Mike—and I begged our parents to take us to see Harry Potter 5 at midnight.”

“Oh, it’s _this_ story,” Ray said knowingly. He wasn’t fond of this story, because it involved him slightly, but it was absolutely insane (and pretty fucking hilarious). “I still can’t believe it,” Ray said shaking his head and laughing.

Frank smiled, “We searched everywhere, but it was all sold out, so they agreed to drive four fucking hours from home to see it.”

Ray snorted, “My mom wouldn’t have driven me four hours to a hospital if my life depended on it.” Everyone laughed at that and looked at Frank eagerly.

“Well this is Harry Potter, Ray, not your life!” He giggled, “Right, where was I? Oh yeah! So we had driven four hours to this damn movie that my mom had reserved tickets for; the rents were gonna go to a bar or some shit like that. Anyways, our parents dropped us off just as people were being let in so we rushed up and asked for our tickets.”

“Uh-oh,” Lyndzey snickered, seeing where this was going.

“It gets better!” Frank promised glancing at Ray who just nodded, “The dick at the ticket booth—he was, maybe, three years older than me—was all, ‘We don’t have any reservations for a Frank Iero’, but what this douche didn’t realize was that I could clearly see the envelope with my name on it sitting right in fucking front of him!”

“Dick probably wanted to go see it himself,” Bob muttered rolling his eyes.

“Right?! Either way, I just snapped on this guy, like, no joke. I started goin’ ape-shit! ‘Dude! What the fuck?! I can see the tickets right there, what the hell are you saying? We drove four fucking hours to see this movie, there’s no way we’re not getting in!’ The guy picks up the envelope, and he’s strangely calm, and shows me that there’s nothing inside. He obviously made a mistake! So I take the envelope from him and look at it myself. Meanwhile Mike is just standing here looking very thoughtful. Not angry, not excited, just thoughtful, which seems fuckin’ weird, right?”

“What’d I miss?” They heard as Brendon ran up to them, hair looking wind-swept.

“Nothing. Sit the fuck down,” Lyndzey glared at him, put a dollar in the jar, and motioned for Frank to continue.

“God, Brendon’s here…” Frank muttered, taking ten dollars and putting it in the jar, “So, a minute later, and after I was starting to draw some attention, because I’m a little shit, Mike tugged on my sleeve. I turned to him and I was like, ‘What?!’ and he just points to something that I can’t see, and apparently neither can the ticket booth guy because we both look really confused. At the same time we both say ‘What are you pointing at?’ He just says, ‘The envelope underneath.’ So the ticket guy, kinda pissed the fuck off, picks up the ‘Frank Iero’ envelope and there was _one_ ticket underneath that said ‘Mike W.’ on it.”

Bob whistled, “Ouch, that’s harsh.” Ray snorted in disapproval.

“Just wait! It. Gets. Better.” Frank is almost in hysterics now, “Like, I can’t even fucking believe this happened to me! Jesus! Oh God, so I’m pretty mad at _him_ now too, like, who the fuck does that to a friend? And I couldn’t just call my mom to come get me! The ticket guy hands Mike the ticket, giving me a smirk. And right in front of him, right in front of _EVERYONE_ Mike takes the ticket and rips it in half!”

“Okay, who the hell is this kid and what mental hospital did he escape from?” Ray said, caught somewhere between feigned horror and genuine giddiness.

“Just…hold on, okay? You know this story, let everyone enjoy. Because _it gets better_ ,” Frank just rubs his face and shifts in his seat, “At this point everyone is confused. After me bitching out the ticket guy, Mike deceiving me, and then wasting that precious fucking ticket, I don’t even know what to do with myself. Do I punch the ticket guy? Do I punch Mike? Do I punch the guy behind me who was complaining about me being loud? All three of them?! I DON’T KNOW!

“I was about to leave when Mike grabbed my sleeve and I’m just like, ‘What?!’ He points to the envelope that the ticket guy is holding. ‘You want this?’ he asks. Mike just nods and when he gets the envelope he puts the two halves of that ticket inside, rips up the envelope _and_ the ticket into tiny pieces, puts the pieces in my hand, grabs the ticket guys hand and puts it over mine. He rubs our hands together and, I kid you not, when the guy pulled away there was a clean envelope with ‘Frank Iero’ written on it, and two tickets inside.”

“God, that story still brings back so many strange memories…” Ray shuttered.

“Wait,” Brendon said, “So when did Frank tell _you_ this story?”

“Yeah, I was kinda wondering that too,” Bob said, actually agreeing with Brendon.

“Oh,” Frank said snickering, “Didn’t I tell you? That’s how I met Ray.”

“Oh. My. God.” Lyndzey said, unbelieving. “There’s no way that you were that ticket guy! You never take that kinda shit from anyone!” She also pulled out a dollar and put it in the jar.

“I took my break after that, and actually went to see the movie with them.” Ray told them shrugging, “I quit after Mike got us thrown out of the theatre for being disruptive. But that kid never fucking said anything! But some douche behind us told security it was us being annoying and not them. Whatever. They weren’t paying me enough anyways.”

Lyndzey grabbed the money-filled jar and held it up, “Anyone else got a story?” she asked. “The jar looks pretty empty.”


	3. Get a Fucking Thesaurus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are you going?” He asked excitedly.
> 
> “Probably Starbucks or Teavana.” Pete said, decidedly uninterested and picking lint off of his blue sweatshirt.
> 
> “Qdoba, Noodles, Starbucks, Teavana, Burger King, Hogwarts, Kansas, Gallifrey, Asgard, Space 1969. Where ever the fuck you want to go.”

** 39 HOURS BEFORE THE ‘PARTY’ **

 

“Listen,” Frank said to Lyndzey, “I’m not really…” he paused for a second, “ready to go on a date, you know?” They were lounging around his surprisingly spacious trailer along with Bob and Ray who had joined the two to sleep for the night. Frank was sitting on the small bed, knees pulled up to his chest, Lyndzey was sitting on the ground with her back leaning against the bed; they were watching Bob and Ray fight to the death in Mario Party 2 for the Nintendo 64—man, that thing was fucking _old_.

“Why?” Lyndzey asked, barely sparing him a glance before turning back to the intense action. Well…as intense as this could get which was _very_ intense, considering how Mario Party in general was a hard game to win.

“First of all, I cannot count the number of times I told you I _didn’t_ want to go on this date,” Frank ticked off a finger. “Secondly, I hate blind dates with a burning passion strong enough to melt your skin,” he ticked off another finger. “And last, but certainly not fucking least, I just don’t think dating is good for me right now.” He ticked off the last finger before crossing his arms over his chest in a huff.

“And I don’t care what you say! Personally, I have to wait _at least_ two months after a break-up before I’m ready to even consider dating,” he added in hurriedly, seeing that she had opened her mouth to protest.

“Ha, yeah man,” Bob said not even bothering to look away from an intense battle between Mario and Luigi, “ _nobody_ wants to be your rebound-ass.”

“You’re real fucking funny,” Frank mocked in a childish voice.”

Ray actually turned around, like a decent human being, before smiling and saying, “Hey! I bet we could get Brendon to go on the date for you, and _totally_ put this guy off!” There was a long silence where everyone—yeah, Bob paused the fucking game—just stared at Ray before someone actually said something.

“I’m not even lying when I say this,” Bob said, seemingly in a daze, “That plan has got to be the most…” he couldn’t find the right word, “inconceivable thing I have ever heard in my entire life.” Ray just stared at him in shock. “No joke. I mean—did you fucking practice that in the mirror or something?”

“Wow…” Ray sounded like he was in total disbelief, “You just…you complimented me.”

“Wait,” Lyndzey interjected slightly confused, “that was a compliment?”

Bob whipped around to face her, his expression incredulous, “You don’t know what ‘inconceivable’ means?” He sounded absolutely appalled. She flinched.

“Uh…” Her eyes were wide with anxious fear; when Bob got all super-geeky on them, he could be pretty intimidating to anyone who didn’t understand him…so basically everyone but Ray and, sometimes, Frank.

[ **Yeah you’re kind of an asshole, Bob.** ]

[ **Well you’re kind of a dumbass, Lyndzey.** ]

[ **Will you two shut the fuck up?!** ]

[ ** _No!_** ]

“Get a fucking thesaurus you idiot!” He interrupted turning back around and un-pausing the game so fast that Ray fumbled with his controller only for his character—Yoshi—to be drowned in lava.

Lyndzey turned around, ‘ _What the fuck just happened to me?_ ’

Frank just shrugged, ‘ _Don’t fucking look at me, I don’t control the universe._ ’

Then he leaned down to her, “It’s synonymous for ‘brilliant’,” Frank said, his eyes all shifty and anxious. Lyndzey’s brow furrowed and her head cocked to the side. In an urgent whisper Frank said, “Oh, _please_ tell me you know what ‘synonymous’ means!”

“Ha,” Lyndzey said, cracking a brilliant smile, “I’m just yankin’ your chain; I know what synonyms are.” Frank sighed in relief and leaned back again.

The next three hours were filled with a bit of talking; a lot of swearing; a few cigarettes, on Frank’s part that is; complaining about being hungry; saying they were too lazy to go get food; and a bit of dozing on and off. Finally, Bob—thankfully in a much better mood—got up and stretched. He scratched his stomach and wrinkled his nose, “I’m hungry.” He announced, turning off the TV. It was three in the afternoon, and they hadn’t eaten anything. How had Frank not noticed?

The next think Frank knew, he let out a surprised yelp as his shoes were hitting him square in the face. “C’mon, Iero,” Bob said, somehow magically already wearing his shoes. Lyndzey was sleeping soundly on the floor and he wasn’t about to wake her up; she could be a raging bitch when she wanted to.

[ **Excuse me?!** ]

[ **I—wh—nothing!** ]

Ray had scurried off to his own trailer a few minutes previous after grabbing his stuff and complaining about the weather. “Where we goin’?” Frank asked following Bob out of the trailer. The second that Frank was out in the cool autumn air and bright sunlight, he hissed fiercely and fished his sunglasses out of his pocket, shoving them on his face ASAP.

Bob just laughed at him and took in a deep breath, as if to reiterate how much he loved the sun, and how cruel it was to Frank. “We’re going to get food,” Bob said as they walked across the boundary of trailers and eased into the ‘open-to-the-public’ zone. There were various workers milling about, almost all of them displaying the same demeanor as Frank, but mostly everyone stayed inside on days like this; sunny, nice, and clear just wasn’t their day of choice.

Everyone in ‘camp’—as Ray so liked to call it—had _some_ sort of aversion to sunlight. Well, that was everyone except Bob and Nate; it was fucking weird, actually. No, not the aversion, that was normal, it was the tolerance that nobody understood; strangely enough Bob and Nate were the weird ones around here.

“But that’s Nate’s job!” Frank whined pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and cringing as he passed through direct sunlight. Frank squawked very unattractively as he felt someone jump on his back. Oh, and speak of the devil.

“What’s my job?” Nate seemed to come out of nowhere most of the time, maybe it was because he was so tiny that nobody noticed him, but it was probably because nobody seemed to even pay attention to the fact that Nate existed, which was pretty sad.

“Food runs…that’s your job, correct?” Frank questioned tilting his head to look up at Nate and shifting slightly to accommodate for the sudden weight on his back.

“Oh,” Nate said tightly wrapping his arms tightly around Frank’s neck and nuzzling the crook of his neck. “Yeah, that’s my job, I guess.” His breath tickled Frank’s neck; Frank squirmed and giggled slightly.

Bob just rolled his eyes, “You two are little girls, I swear.” As they approached Bob’s car, Pete came into view and nodded at them. Nate slid off Franks back, stumbling slightly, “I actually just went on a food run.” He told them. Pete slapped Nate on the back, extracting a small squeal before walking to the other side of the car.

“Yeah, and?” Bob said unlocking the car and getting into the driver’s seat. Frank slid into the passenger’s seat, and Pete was in the back.

“So why are you guys going to get food?” Nate leaned against the door and cocked and eyebrow at them.

“We missed breakfast,” Frank explained, his stomach growling right on cue.

“We need to get decent food,” Bob said smirking at Nate’s fallen expression.

“Dick.” He muttered.

“It’s not that your food isn’t good,” Bob said honestly, “just…we need food _now_ and we can’t wait for you to go get the food we want, and make it, and serve it.”

“And by ‘we’ he means ‘him’.” Frank told Nate, glaring at Bob for making him sad. But Nate bounced back quickly, and was bouncing on his toes with an expression of glee on his face.

“Where are you going?” He asked excitedly.

“Probably Starbucks or Teavana.” Pete said, decidedly uninterested and picking lint off of his blue sweatshirt.

“Qdoba, Noodles, Starbucks, Teavana, Burger King, Hogwarts, Kansas, Gallifrey, Asgard, Space 1969. Where ever the fuck you want to go.” Bob started his car and put it in reverse, and just stared at Nate expectantly.

Nate’s brows furrowed, “What?” He asked. Bob just gave him an ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-me’ face and looked at Frank.

“Get the fuck in the car, Nate.” Pete said, stating what Bob’s expression read.

“Oh!” Nate said, looking surprised, “Yay!” He jumped in the backseat and hesitated before deciding to ask them something, “If we _do_ go to Kansas, can we hunt monsters and _then_ go to Oz?”

“I don’t know why we let you watch television.” Frank said, turning the radio on. Sure enough, “ _Carry on my wayward son. There’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more…_ ”


	4. Why We Don't Go Shopping With Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "RISE AND SHINE, BOYS!"

** 33 HOURS BEFORE THE ‘PARTY’ **

 

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks, my name is Gabe. How can I help you?” The dude on the intercom sounds bored shitless, and also sounds pretty cool. Bob can just tell; no visuals needed. The first place Nate, Frank, Bob and Pete go is Burger King, but decide to leave immediately after Pete walks up to the cash register and orders a Big Mac just to be a douche bag.

[ **Fuck you; that was funny!** ]

[ **No, Pete…that was embarrassing. Now we’re banned from Burger King.** ]

[ **Well then it’s the Burger King who’s a douche; not me.** ]

“Uh, yeah,” Bob says scratching his beard contemplatively. As he opens his mouth to order, everyone in the car suddenly stops whatever it is they’re doing and yells what they want into the com. Bob honks his horn to get them to shut the fuck up, and ignores the disgusted looks he gets from the two girls leaving Starbucks who are probably not old enough to be in middle school; he really doesn’t give a shit. “I’ll get two venti Java Chip frappuccino’s, two venti Pumpkin Spice lattes, and seven chocolate muffins.”

In the back seat Pete has gone back to looking out the window like he’s searching for something, and Nate is leaning against his shoulder, trying to sleep. Frank just smiles to himself; his favorite part of ordering food for more than just himself is the shock that overcomes the staff of wherever they happen to be going; it’s hysterical to receive 65 dollars worth of food from McDonalds and fit it all in one car.

However, today wasn’t one of those days. In fact, the guy over the com—Gabe—didn’t seem surprised in the least, “That’ll be 45.32. Please proceed to the next window. Thank you for stopping at Starbucks.”

 _Damn_. How fucking shitty can life get to receive _that_ response?! Frank almost feels personally offended, and Bob’s eyes narrow: Challenge accepted. See, Bob was a Good Samaritan, despite the popular belief that he eats the hearts of children for desert after a meal of rotting flesh.

[ **Totally fucking gross, dude.** ]

[ **I think you mean ‘Accurate’, Mikey.** ]

[ **No, Frank, I think I mean _totally fucking gross, dude_.** ]

Bob could never just sit by and watch other people suffer, especially if they were awesome. Okay, _only_ if they were awesome, but it only matters that Bob wants to make a difference…in other words, he wants to be nice. And Gabe was giving off horrible-life vibes that Bob desperately wanted to address. So he did, “Frank.” Bob said.

“Already on it,” Frank said rummaging through the compartment in the dashboard. Where was it, where was it? Ah! There it was. “Here you go.” Frank handed a small card and a 50 dollar bill to Bob who was already waiting at the next window.

“45.32?” When Nate looked out his window he squealed slightly, and flailed his arms. Pete had to hold him down from injuring anyone in the car. The guy at the window seemed young, 19 or 20, and extremely tall. He was wearing a purple sweatshirt under his green apron, and his visor was tilted to the side with his short dark hair sticking up in the front. His eyes were dark and, let’s face it, he was damn attractive. Man did Bob know how to pick ‘em.

“You must be Gabe.” Bob said, giving a knowing look.

The guy shrugged, “You must be the customer who orders 45 dollars worth of food…from Starbucks.” Bob—almost—laughed and just handed over the money. When Gabe came back with their change and bag of muffins, Bob dutifully gave them to Frank instead of Pete, knowing they might get eaten otherwise.

“Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?” Bob said, stopping Gabe before he could leave to get their drinks. He handed Gabe the small card Frank had given him. Gabe grabbed the card, and looked at it with a blank expression. Instead of tearing it up or throwing it away or yelling at Bob, like most people, Gabe just stuck the card in his visor and listened to what Bob had to say. “You’ve been working here for, what, a year? Two? You hate this job, but the hours are okay and you get a lot of money, but, again: you hate it.”

In the background they could faintly hear someone yelling “Saporta! Come get these drinks before I sell them or drink them myself!” The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but was too bored to try. “That your boss?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow. Gabe just nodded, “Seems like a dick…why do you work here, again?”

“Never said,” Gabe told them in his strangely deep yet characteristically squeaky voice. “And I mean…c’mon. He isn’t _that_ bad. He couldn’t fire me if he wanted to. He hates working the drive-thru.”

“Oh, really? Kinda seems stuck up,” Bob liked that Gabe was actually talking in complete sentences, and wasn’t going to stomp out his creative-streak. Pete was still looking out the window, Nate had, successfully, fallen asleep, and Frank was just observing.

“Nah,” Gabe said getting comfortable on the ledge of the window. “He’s actually nicer than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s got some fucked up social anxiety. I’m surprised he said more than two words. That fills his quota for, at least, one week.”

[ **Okay, wow. Really, Gabe? One week?** ]

[ **Fine, fine! Two weeks.** ]

[ **Not. What. I. Meant.** ]

“Gabe!” Except this time it was more like a whine. Frank could hear the distress in the voice of Gabe’s boss, and felt kinda bad; Gabe, while he seemed really cool, seemed to be a horrible employee.

Without turning away from Bob, Gabe stuck his hand out behind him and called, “Hand it over, Way!” Someone—couldn’t really tell who, considering that Frank or even Bob couldn’t see him—came over and handed Gabe the tray of drinks. Without batting an eyelash he whipped his hand around and stuck it through the drive-thru window. Bob took them, handing them in a Gabe-ish way to Frank.

“Hm, I’d love to stay and talk,” Bob actually didn’t sound sarcastic, for the first time in his entire life. And it was kinda endearing. Gabe still seemed unfazed, seeming to know where this might be going, “I get off in ten.” He said passively, looking like he was going to fall asleep,

Bob beamed at him, “You catch on fast, Gabe. I can tell we’re going to be the bestest of friends ever.” Aaaaaand back to the sarcasm. Frank rolled his eyes, sipping at his latte and stuffing a muffin into his mouth, which proved to be more difficult than originally intended because those were some huge-ass muffins, and Frank was a small-ass dude.

[ **Watch yourself, Way.** ]

[ **So scared.** ]

[ **Gera—** ]

[ **Yeah, I remember. Powers of the unknown and all that shit.** ]

“Can’t wait,” Gabe said, cracking a humorless smile. He hops off the ledge and starts to walk away, and Bob takes his car out of ‘P’ and puts it in ‘D’. He’s about to pull away when Gabe walks back up to the window and sticks his head out again. “Oh, I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Better not be your boss.”

“He wouldn’t come if his brother’s life depended on it.”

“Well then. We’re back in business.” Bob shoots him a wolfish grin and peels away from the curb, jolting Nate awake and pulling Pete out of his trance. Bob is speeding 20 over, and Frank can clearly see his destination, though he doesn’t understand how they’ll be in and out in 10 minutes.

Wal-Mart.

 XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Turns out that Gabe knew where they were headed; how he knew has remained, to this day, a mystery. Also it turns out that the Gabe they met at Starbucks—apathetic, boring, tired—was nothing like the crazy fucker that ended up at Wal-Mart with them. At the moment he was being chased down the frozen-foods section by the ‘friend’ he’d brought along. Frank wasn’t even sure that he could classify Patrick as a friend of Gabe’s because Gabe had the reserve of a horse on steroids, and Patrick had the spontaneity of someone who was, well, not living.

[ **I honestly appreciate that you didn’t say ‘dead’.** ]

[ **Glad to know _something_ I do makes you happy.**]

“Gabe, come back!” Patrick called—well not so much ‘called’ but, like, firmly suggested—after Gabe who had arms full of freezey-pops and frozen fish fingers. Pete trailed behind him, slowly, fidgeting and twitching slightly looking as if he were using all of his strength to restrain himself from going ape-shit and killing someone. Bob just sighed as he followed Nate pushing Frank in a grocery cart; Pete needed to get his shit together.

Actually, it’s pretty funny. The way they all met for the first time that is. Bob chuckles to himself as he remembers the look on Pete’s face; they had just parked and walked into to the store, looking around for exactly what they needed—food, and good food at that. It didn’t hurt that Wal-Mart had clothes and games sections also. Naturally Nate and Frank ran—and that’s fucking _ran_ —to the to the foods section grabbing a cart. Frank hopped inside and Nate pushed him down the aisles, close enough to the shelves that he could stick his arm out and collect dozens of chips, soup packages, candy, and tofu at one time.

Bob and Pete walked along the other aisles to get other things like make-up, [ **I fucking needed eyeliner, stop laughing at me!** ], toilet paper, deodorant, bottles of soda and a giant jar of pickles. The four met up, putting all of Bob and Pete’s stuff in the cart with Frank, leaving plenty of room for anything else they’d need.

[ **I’m not that fucking small! I mean, come _on_!** ]

[ **Frank…you could have squeezed into the baby seat in the front of the cart.** ]

[ ** _What the fuck did you say to me, Wentz?!_** ]

[ **Nothing! I, er—GERARD!** ]

[ **Don’t look at me. You brought this on yourself.** ]

“Hey!” They heard just before someone in a purple sweatshirt skidded by them on a skateboard, and went flying, face first, into a display of—luckily—pillows. The four boys just stood, utterly dumbfounded, at Gabe as he rolled over and gave them a shit-eating grin.

“I’m sorry about him…” a timid and nervous voice came from behind them. A relatively short, slightly pudgy, and hopelessly adorable guy was standing before them. He was wearing pink converse, black pants, a yellow t-shirt, green jacket, and one of those knit caps with the tiny visor on the front. He had his hand up to his hat, trying to shield his flushed face, and he was holding a camera.

“What’s there to be sorry about?” Both Gabe and Frank said, at the same time. He’d stood up and was leaning on the cart by Frank staring at everyone with an expectant grin. Frank giggled and squirmed in the cart, pushing aside a few bags of Tostitos and making an empty space next to him.

“Nate! Hop in! Gabe’s taking over.” Everyone knew this was a bad idea. Gabe, Nate, _and_ Frank? They’re just lucky that Frank wasn’t feeling up to his usual self lately—completely understandable around this time of year—and that Nate was so tired. Still, Gabe had enough energy for all three of them plus an army of ten thousand so they were a bit on overload.

“No! Oh-ho-ho-no!” Bob walked up and grabbed Nate by the hips as he was climbing in beside Frank. Nate made a small noise of protest as Bob slung him over his shoulder and pointed a stern finger at Frank. “I just got banned from fucking _Burger King_ —the only place on earth with the least amount of standards for human beings—and I will not, repeat, _will fucking not_ let you get me banned from WAL-MART! Because we all see how happy Bob gets when someone fucks up, right Pete?”

But there was only silence.

“Pete?” Bob’s brows furrowed and he turned around—Nate whined in pain as his head banged against the cart. And that’s when Bob felt like a scientist; like he’d discovered something brand new for the first time, and was so fucking happy about it he just couldn’t handle himself. Pete looked…well…

Patrick and Pete had switched stances. Pete had a hand covering his flushed face, and Patrick just stood there looking around, and paying only little attention to the situation at hand. Oh, Patrick. Poor oblivious Patrick.

[ **Fuckin’ thanks, Bob.** ]

[ **This is my story, fuck off.** ]

“FUCKING OW!” Nate shrieked as Bobs arms dropped letting him slide off his shoulder and fall directly to the ground banging his head, once again, on the cart. (“Walk it off, Novarro.” Frank had said, kicking his leg out and hitting Nate in the face.) They really were lucky that he had such tough skin for a tiny dude.

“Are you okay?!” Patrick asked eyes wide with terror, brought back to reality by Nate’s cries of unadulterated agony. Pete, too, looked up to see what was going on, and his face clouded over immediately once he realized what was going on and _holy fucking shit fuck damn_. This must have been the goddamned apocalypse because that was fucking **_jealousy_** plastered all over the face of one cynical and emotionless Pete Wentz.

No, seriously, was the world ending?

And obviously, since he knew fucking everything, Bob seemed to understand what was going on here, “He’s fine.” Bob said shooting Patrick a toothy grin receiving a glare from Pete in return.

“Bryar…” Pete warned mildly.

“What?” Bob asked all wide-eyed and innocent as fuck. Pete knew better.

Patrick, however, didn’t seem to notice anything that was happening and just nodded his head in understanding. After Nate had cleaned himself up—he’d had a bit of a nose-bleed—and the six boys talked about what they were going to do for the day they all decided on one thing. They needed food, and they needed food now.

One thing led to another and, ultimately, here we are now; Gabe running amuck, Pete brooding, Bob laughing, and Frank…sleeping? Yep, sure enough, he’d fallen asleep in the cart even as Nate pushed more and more items into the cart making a loud clashing sound. “Checkout time!” Bob called to all of them, checking his watch, it was almost six and people might start to wonder what the fuck happened to them.

Naturally, three fourths of the items in the cart, plus the fish fingers and freezey-pops, had to be returned to their shelves. As Bob paid and loaded up the cart, Frank climbed on Gabe’s back and drifted off again as Nate started to sway on his feet. Oh dear, those lattes really didn’t do anything for them. All they had eaten all day were two muffins—three if you’re Frank—and one coffee. While the sugar was greatly appreciated, it didn’t exactly satisfy their hunger.

“Where to, Bob-O?” Gabe asked, smiling at them. He’d calmed down considerably from when they were in the store and Patrick looked incredibly relieved. Pete was still sulking in the passenger’s seat of the car, Nate and Frank draped over each other in the back. Bob was leaning against the hood of his car checking the seven hundred text messages that he hadn’t looked at until now. Slight over-exaggeration there; it was more like 50, but still.

“Well, Frankie and Nathan are due back home in two hours or so. We’re all hungry, there’s a Qdoba on the way back, and I’m paying. And, yes, that is an invitation,” his eyes flitted towards Patrick before turning back to Gabe.

But they didn’t seem to notice, and if they did they were hiding it very well, “Works for us.” Gabe and Patrick shrugged after exchanging glances. So now with their two new acquaintances in tow, Bob pulled out of the parking lot and headed back the way they’d came. Nate was reenergized and hyper after eating and drinking four cups of Mountain Dew. Frank had woken up, eaten, and fallen back asleep. Everyone made small talk, but they could all tell Bob was avoiding something they knew would be a difficult conversation.

“So,” he said, finally, “I have this—there’s this…fuck,” he ran a hand through his short hair, “I never was good at these conversations; always Frank’s job.” He just shook his head in frustration.

[ **Yeah, you kinda sucked at that…** ]

[ **Did anyone ask you, Gabe?** ]

[ **Doesn’t matter. Opinion’s just as important as fact. And that’s both.** ]

“You okay?” Pete asked snidely, because not only was he angry and being overemotional, he remembered what this conversation was like for him two years ago.

“Actually, I’m fucking fine, thank you.” Bob replies with a dry smile. He turns back to Gabe, just contemplating what to say next. His eyebrows are furrowed and Gabe’s eyes are glazed over in boredom when Bob finally asks, “When did it happen?” Ah, yes, _this_ was the direction that the conversation needed to be heading in.

[ **Whoa! Let’s not get over-confident here! They don’t even know about us, yet!** ]

[ **They will in a fucking minute, Gabe!** ]

Gabe may have the IQ of a five year old, and the common sense of a ten year old, but he certainly knew how to keep his cool; nobody, and that meant fucking _nobody_ got the jump on Gabe Saporta. Okay, maybe Patrick that ONE time, but that was logical; he was eating.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Gabe said eyebrows quirking up in a questioning manner. Damn this kid was good, Bob thought. Okay, how to go about this? Well, just pursue it, Bob.

“I believe the year was 2000. It was after Christmas and before New Years. Sometime in the morning actually, which is real surprising. Maybe nine or ten.” Bob shrugs and gets comfortable on the hood of the car. “I was walking with my friend,” he threw a meaningful glance towards Nate in the backseat; “It was a regular day, y’know?”

He shook his head, “It was pretty fuckin’ scary and it…it burned, I’ll admit, but I’m just…glad that I’m—he’s—we’re okay. He didn’t mean to do it. And as fucking pissed off as I was, I believed him; I forgave him. We, kinda, sorta, live together.” This was when Gabe’s interested expression faltered, deflating into cold apathy.

“Well, I don’t know what happened to you, but it sounds bad.” Gabe said, trying to keep his expression flat. “That really isn’t working,” Bob said quietly, as he gave Gabe a knowing look.

“Damn,” Gabe said, the corner of his mouth threatening to turn up just the slightest bit, “Seven years ago. Summer; maybe June. It was dark out, and I was alone.” He cringed and Bob could understand how bad that must’ve felt. “Happened in a matter of seconds. Woke up feeling like I got hit by a car, which I think I did, and dazed. Didn’t know what happened, why I was all bloody—if it was even _my_ blood—and I never saw the dude again.”

“Sucks.” Bob said, shrugging. He knew better than to say ‘I’m sorry,’ because how shitty was that? Nobody fucking wanted pity and sympathy. They just wanted understanding. Gabe gave him a grateful look and turned towards Patrick.

“Get in the car; you’re driving.” He tossed him the keys and walked away.

“I-I don’t…how did—what was…”

“Just follow me, Pat.” Bob said clapping him on the back, hopping into the car, and revving up the engine just enough to scare the shit out of Nate and Frank who both inadvertently kicked each other in the face upon jolting awake.

[ **Rude.** ]

[ **Both of you can shut the fuck up.** ]

“Rise and shine, boys!” Bob barked out a laugh, “Wake up and greet the day.”


	5. As Told By...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gerard!” He spun on his heel to see Mikey grinning at him like an idiot. How the fuck did that kid manage to do everything in his power to annoy Gerard and succeed? Gee was simply dying to know his secret.
> 
> [I still fucking am!]
> 
> [Ah, young Jedi, this is not the time. I’ll tell you when I’m older.]

** 36 HOURS BEFORE THE PARTY…SOMEWHERE ELSE **

 

There came a soft knock, “Hey, Gee,” Mikey’s face appeared next to John Lennon’s; The Beatles poster hanging on Gerard’s door. Gerard just groaned in response and rolled over. Mikey didn’t say anything but he could practically _hear_ the stupid smirk on his brother’s stupid face.

[ **Hey, I happen to _love_ the stupid smirk on your brother’s stupid face!**]

[ **Thanks…Gabe…** ]

“You do know what day it is, right?” Hm. No. Actually, Gerard did _not_ know what day it was, but he didn’t bother to voice that because he knew that Mikey would, in fact, inform him of the importance of that day anyways.

“Uh-uh,” Gerard said, barely shaking his head to prove his point. It was a rather pathetic attempt in Mikey’s opinion. He sauntered over to the bed and flopped down beside Gerard, hitting him in the face during the process.

[ **Ow…** ]

“Ow,” Gerard grumbled turning to face his brother. Mikey was just staring up at the ceiling, apparently thinking of nothing in particular. Well, that’s what Gerard would say; Mikey always had this contemplative look on his face but, to Gerard it was practically an open book with font size 20.

“I just got off the phone—”

“Ugh, with work, I know.” Gerard rolled his eyes before closing them again.

“You’re supposed to be there in…” There was a silence in which Gerard could tell Mikey was checking his watch. “Two hours ago.”

“But I don’t _want_ to go.”

“But I don’t _want_ to go without electricity for the next few months.”

“As much as I don’t want to admit it,” Gerard said, pulling himself into a sitting position, “you have a point.” He yawned and stretched, looking down at Mikey who was lying with his eyes closed.

[ **Did you just admit that I was right?** ]

[ **Shut up Mikey.** ]

“What time is it?” Gerard asked, poking Mikey in the side.

  XxXxXxXxXxXxX

It was another full hour before Gerard actually made it to work. It was quite frequently that he forgot he even had to go to work; his position at work was ‘Manager’ and he was the kind of manager who entrusted his workplace to his employees, and, since he hasn’t gotten any lawsuits, he figures it’s a good setup.

[ **Hey, that’s a fact!** ]

[ **Whatever, Gee.** ]

“Hey guys, look who finally decided to show up to work today?”

“Hi, Ryan.” Gerard smiled awkwardly and shuffled in place. He didn’t feel offended at all because, the thing is, Ryan was genuinely happy to see him. This was, typically, how these conversations went; Ryan would bound up to Gerard, visibly straining himself from giving him a hug, and flourish him with questions and smiles. Don’t misunderstand what’s going on here! Ryan wasn’t, like, in love with Gerard! No, no, no! He was, however, in love with humanity; Ryan was the most personable human being that Gerard had ever met.

[ **Aw, thank you!** ]

[ **Anytime, Ry.** ]

“Hey, yeah!” Someone called, pointing at Gerard and smiling like an idiot. “Mikey finally got you outta the house?!” Gerard smiled, this time genuinely, and sauntered over to the counter.

“Hey Jams!” He greeted reaching out and ruffling her hair. She made a noise of content and then moved away to serve a customer. “Hello welcome to Starbucks, my name is Jamia, how can I help you?”

Jamia was the Assistant Manager—it would have been Ryan but he hasn’t worked there as long—and it was pretty sweet, especially considering that she was Gerard and Mikey’s best friend.

Gerard walked behind the counter and back into their make-shift kitchen/break room. He spotted several employees on break, and some had dozed off on the couch that was next to the refrigerator. Those who were conscious, and some that weren’t, nodded in his direction but didn’t dare speak to him; they all knew his aversion to social interaction and their rule was that if Gerard talked to you, it was then okay to be as obnoxious as you wanted.

[ **That is so not the rule!** ]

[ **That is totally the rule.** ]

[ **No it’s not!** ]

[ **Gerard.** ]

[ **B-but…really?** ]

[ **Yeah, it’s kinda sad.** ]

When Gerard walked back out of the kitchen to see what was going on at the coffee machines—and, admittedly, it was to grab some caffeine—and sighed as he shook his head. “Gabe, get your hand out of the espresso machine.”

Gabe, who was tall and therefore had big hands, turned around and gave Gerard a small smile. Gerard wasn’t exactly ‘Employee of the Month’ when it came to attendance—actually he only scheduled work ten times a month for usually only five hours, three of which he regularly missed—but it seemed that every time he came to work, Gabe was stuck in something.

“Hey,” Gabe said nodding towards Gerard, expression blank, and continuing to remove his hand from the coffee machine. Gerard just sighed and rolled his eyes, but he smiled, nonetheless; Gabe was one of those interesting types. You couldn’t tell if you liked him, or wanted to rip his fucking throat out…or both.

Something caught Gerard’s eye, and he felt his stomach drop. There was someone at the drive-thru, and everyone seemed to be busy. _Fucking everyone_. Except…

“Gabe!” Gerard called waving him over, “You’ve been promoted. Congrats, you get to talk to strangers over the com.” He grabbed the headphones off the rack and handed them to him. Gabe, who had been wiping…something off of his hand, looked at Gerard expectantly—as if this were some kind of fucking practical joke—and just stood there. Gerard stomped his foot and pouted slightly.

The corners of Gabe’s lips twitched up, just slightly, and he grabbed the headphones, pressing the button. “Hello, welcome to Starbucks, my name is Gabe. How can I help you?”

Well…at least he sounded enthusiastic.

[ **Sarcasm**.]

[ **No one asked you anything ever.** ]

Gerard, in the meantime, hurried over to the order screen, looking to see what would pop up; two venti Java Chip frappuccino’s, two venti Pumpkin Spice lattes, and seven chocolate muffins. _What_?  Who ate that much? _What_ ate that much? But, hey, that was good money, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

He hurried to make the orders, and when he was done, he couldn’t find Gabe. Gerard moved around one of the workers, probably Patrick, and stood on his tip-toes to find Gabe among all of the people; he was still at the fucking window! “Saporta!” He yelled, “Come get these drinks before I sell them or drink them myself!”

A few minutes later, and no reply. “Gabe!” Yeah, Gerard was perfectly aware of how bitchy and whiny he sounded, but there were people waiting—okay, just him—and stuff needed to be done. Eventually Gerard just walked up to Gabe and handed him the tray. He didn’t even get a glance; typical.

A few minutes later, and Gabe was _finally_ done at the drive-thru. He walked up to Gerard, handed over his apron, and announced that he was leaving. For how long, nobody knew, but Gerard knew not to hold his breath. With every other employee he would have yelled after them, but he actually shooed Gabe out of the shop. Yeah, he was surprised and kind of annoyed that Patrick was going with him, but whatever.

He sauntered over to Jamia and was about to start a conversation—

“Gerard!” He spun on his heel to see Mikey grinning at him like an idiot. How the fuck did that kid manage to do _everything_ in his power to annoy Gerard and succeed? Gee was simply dying to know his secret.

[ **I still fucking am!** ]

[ **Ah, young Jedi, this is not the time. I’ll tell you when I’m older.** ]

“Hey, Mikes!” Gerard greeted, waving Mikey over.

“I have some good news and some bad news,” he informed them both. He didn’t ask which they would like to hear first, because knowing Gerard he’d simply always see the negative and Jams loved all news.

“Okay, shoot.” Jamia said, glancing at Gerard who had tensed up, his eyes wide with an unknown, unprecedented fear. Mikey rolled his eyes, “Remember that whole band thing I was telling you about?”

“Mikey—” Gerard warned, knowing directly where this was going; Mikey had heard of some carnival or something that needed entertainment and he was fucking thrilled about it. He told Gerard who received the news a bit less positively than expected, but Mikey never gave up. He listed all the possibilities—they wouldn’t have to keep to themselves, Gerard could make (more) friends, and they would get to do something they absolutely loved.

Gerard still said no.

“Hear me out, Gee,” Mikey said shooting his brother huge puppy-dog eyes. Gerard sighed in a frustrated manner but didn’t say anything else. “Great. So they’re in town for a few months, and I said that maybe sometime we could drop by, y’know, just to be nice.” That was a lie.

“Okay, all I’m hearing is bad news.” Jamia slapped Gerard’s arm because she was a _huge_ advocate for the ‘Gerard-Needs-A-Life-Because-This-Is-Just-Fucking-Pathetic’ campaign.

[ **Is _that_ what you call it?**]

[ **Yeah, pretty much.** ]

[ **Not nice to think of your life like that, Gee.** ]

[ **Whateven, Frank.** ]

“They invited us over,” Mikey offered with a shrug.

“I can see how you would consider that ‘good’ news.”

“It fucking is good news, moron,” Jams said, irritated. She didn’t tolerate pessimism very well. Nor opinions that seemed slightly less optimistic than a unicorn wearing a suit of pure gold.

“So what’s the bad news,” Gerard asked, completely unfazed.

“Tomorrow.” Gerard’s brow furrowed. _Tomorrow?_ What did that mean? Surely Mikey wasn’t enough of a dick to—

“Oh my God I completely forgot!” Gerard’s hands flew to his head, and raked through his greasy hair. He pulled on his hair, wanting to tear it all out; how could he be so fucking stupid?!

“Yeah, apparently.”

“Shit, Mikey, you know I can’t…I-I didn’t—this just isn’t fair!” Okay, cue the temper tantrum. However, Mikey had been expecting this. He grabbed Gerard by the arm and dragged him over to a slightly more secluded area of the kitchen as Jamia followed them.

“Gerard, you’re a big boy now, okay? I told you a month ago, and you forgot. Now suck it up, because we’re going to that party tomorrow.”

“B-but, but…”

“No ‘but’s’. We’re going and that’s final.” Damn, sometimes Gerard hated that he wasn’t strong enough to be the older sibling.


	6. You Never Fucking Have a Lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Huh?” Mikey raised his eyebrows which was his universal tell-tale sign of ‘I AM FREAING THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW HOLY SHIT!’ And if Mikey was reacting like this, then Gerard sure was about to find himself in a major panic attack.

** 4 MONTHS BEFORE THE PARTY **

 

 _Ring. Ring._ Gerard sighed, drumming his fingers on the dash, and looked in his rear-view mirror for…well he didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe he wasn’t looking for some _thing_ but for some _one_ ; yeah, that was it exactly! He was looking for some _one_ , but he didn’t know who, and he didn’t know why. He shook his head to clear his mind, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. He was waiting…just waiting. Albeit he was restless—he kept bouncing his leg up and down like he couldn’t sit still—but he was waiting nonetheless.

Gerard was sitting in his car that was parked in the lot of a nearly deserted strip mall; this was where he—usually with Mikey because he couldn’t bear the thought of going alone—picked up any food they needed. He always stopped for groceries on the way home from wherever he had been that day (sometimes it was from work, usually it was from home).

 _Ring. Ring. Ring._ God fucking shit damn, Mikey! He made a frustrated noise, “Answer the fucking phone!” He _was_ calling to see if Mikey needed anything, but apparently Mikey didn’t know how to use a fucking telephone. Sometimes Gerard wondered if Mikey was the crazy one.

[ **You’re an asshole.** ]

[ ** _You’re_ technologically inept. Can we get back to the story now?**]

Gerard was about to hang up when he heard something on the other end of the line. “What?” Mikey asked in his usual monotonous voice.

Gerard’s face contorted in bitterness. “What the fuck do you mean _what?_ ”

“Pringles.” Then he hung up.

“You’re such a fucking prick,” Gerard said to the dial-tone. Then he hung up and sat in silence, debating if it was a smart idea to go get food now, or pick up Mikey. Well, it seemed a bit ridiculous to drive home just to pick up Mikey and come back…but Gerard would do it! He totally would. He was just really bad at talking to people he didn’t know; honestly, once you got to know Gerard it was like day and night—

[ **Whoa! We are saving that description for later chapters, dumbass!** ]

[ **Who are _you_ calling a dumbass, you fuckface?**]

[ **Oh don’t even get me started on name-calling you trashy, no-good, two-bit—** ]

[ **Bro, Frank, really?** ]

[ ** _What?!_** ]

[ **Later. Chapters.** ]

Gerard just sighed. He raked his fingers through his greasy black hair before sighing one more time and getting out of his car. Before he headed in to the store, he double checked that his car was locked; it’s not like anyone was going to steal anything, because there was no one around, but who can blame a guy for being a bit cautious?

[ **You mean ‘paranoid’.** ]

[ **I am going to take my fist, and apply it, with great pressure, to your face.** ]

He stood in front of the store, staring at the bright, flashing neon sign that said ‘OPEN 24/7!’. Gerard tried to convince himself that everything was okay; _It_ looks _inviting, I guess,_ he thought with a grimace. He just shook his head, as a shiver went through him—what was that?—and slowly turned away from the door.

 _Nah I’ll just…_ He walked away, fists clenched, high on his tiptoes, as if he didn’t want anyone to see him or something. He had to just keep telling himself: _Hey, maybe food isn’t such a good idea, I should just get back in my car and…_ but then he stopped. His shoulders slouched, and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He turned back towards the door, face stormy and brooding; there was no denying they needed food. Besides, Gerard _hated_ Mikey’s whiny-bitch mode—almost as much as he hated being in public. He steeled himself and decided to just suck it up.

 

XxXxXxXxX

 

Gerard shoved the last of his groceries into the back of car and slammed it shut. Shopping wasn’t that bad, actually. He’d grabbed one of those small baskets and walked aimlessly up and down the aisles. He grabbed everything that he had to get—even the fucking _Pringles_ —and then some.  When he had gone to check out he bought three packs of gum, and five candy bars; what? He had a sweet tooth.

[ **Fat ass.** ]

[ **Oh hell no you did not just call my boyfriend what I think you did!** ]

[ **I _am_ your boyfriend…**]

[ **I’ll still kick your ass.** ]

[ **My ‘fat ass’?** ]

[ **That. Is. _It!_** ]

[ **Wh-what? No! _No!_ Please g-get off me! Mikey, MIKEY! TAKE OVER!**]

[ **Uh, sure…okay?** ]

Okay, so Gerard went shopping, checked out, he has a sweet tooth, nota fat ass…yada yada yada. Where were we? Um, I don’t really know how to pick this up, so I’ll just skip back to the parking lot part.

After he closed his trunk, he leaned against the back of it and crossed his ankles. He smiled to himself as he pulled out the last of his cigarettes. Then he remembered; ah, there’s no lighter. _God_ , he thought, _I never have a fucking lighter_. His smile changed from happy to resentful in a matter of seconds.

He pushed himself off of the trunk and scratched his head in frustration. He let out an irritated, “ _Fucking shit!_ ” before staring at the cigarette, sputtering, and contemplating on throwing it on the ground or saving it. Well, it’s not like he had a lighter or was going to have one any time soon, so he might as well just—

“Whoa, hold on there,” the voice that came from behind Gerard was far away, and it was familiar yet it wasn’t. At all. _Whatsoever_. But it seemed so familiar that it sent a huge ripple through his body, and set his heart at a hundred miles a minute. He wasn’t scared. No, he wasn’t scared in the least. However, he _did_ feel like there were butterflies—no faeries the size of raccoons as rabid as bears—in his stomach, and his head was all fuzzy.

Gerard was completely fine with this strange feeling because he knew he could figure it out later, but things got more complicated when he turned around to see who was talking to him. It was like looking at a photograph; one he hadn’t taken yet, if that makes any sense.

[ **It doesn’t.** ]

[ **Do you want me to tell the story or not?** ]

[ **…fine, whatever fine.** ]

The guy running towards him was short [Frank, shut up]. He was wearing black skinny jeans—in _this_ heat?—and a black Misfits sweatshirt—Gerard felt the corners of his mouth turn up just enough to be considered a smile. The guy stopped just short of crashing straight into Gerard (which he wouldn’t have minded at all), and grinned up at him with a blinding, huge, beautiful smile, “No need to waste a perfectly good cigarette, right?” When he laughed, Gerard noticed that the corners of his eyes scrunched up just a little bit. Speaking of his eyes: They were amazing. They were _huge_ , and green with brown flecks in them, and they reflected earnest happiness. It was kind of infectious, and Gerard damned himself as he felt his smile grow.

“Uh,” Gerard scratched the back of his head, ducking it before this guy saw his tomato-red face. _Smooth move Gerard_.

[ **Smooth move Gerard.** ]

[ **Mikey’s really over exaggerating.** ]

[ **No. I’m really not.** ]

[ **Shut _up_!** ]

The guy laughed, and it was so bright and loud (and everything Gerard had expected) that Gerard almost thought there should be a glittering cloud of magical faerie dust exploding just from the sound.

“Here,” the guy said as he dug in his back pocket, producing a silver Zippo and flipping it open. He had black hair (really, _really_ black; almost impossibly so) that was kinda long and when he turned to get his lighter, Gerard could see the scorpion tattoo on his neck just visible through the curtain of hair; it made him wonder if there were any other tattoos somewhere beneath all those clothes—seriously, what the fuck, it’s like 1000 degrees outside (granted Gerard can’t feel it but _really_?!).

Gerard’s shaking fingers fumbled as he put the cigarette to his lips. He was leaning in for a light when something absolutely horrible happened; the wind blew, and time seemed to stop just because Gerard and this stranger stopped—the stranger’s pupil’s dilating, and his eyes darkening.

 _What is that smell_? Everything went in slow motion while Gerard’s thoughts raced a million miles an hour. _No, seriously; what the_ fuck _is that smell_?! It made him want to cry, or scream, or pass out. It was the sweet smell of autumn rain and dirt. Just beneath that Gerard could sense tobacco, coffee, peppermint, and something so sickeningly sweet that he felt his knees go weak. Oh, it was rather disturbing how quickly Gerard fell in love with someone he’d never—well _possibly_ —seen before.

[ **Are you shitting me, Mikey?** ]

[ **I was told to “recount every detail as Gerard told me”…so I am.** ]

Gerard seemed to think that everything was moving in slow-mo, but suddenly everything went too quickly for him to comprehend exactly what the fuck was going on. He looked down at his feet to avoid looking at, well, anything aside from his feet. “Uh,” Gerard started again.

“I have to go,” Gerard heard before another shudder went through him—in this billion degree weather, seriously _stop_ _fucking_ _around_! And before he could say anything in response, he looked up and nobody was there. Gerard looked around; there was no one walking or running or driving away and it had only been a matter of half a millisecond. His brows furrowed in frustration, and he was starting to think that there hadn’t been anyone here in the first place—that he was just talking to himself.

 _What the hell is going on in my life_? He thought, shaking his head.

“I don’t fucking know anymore…” he told himself as he turned to get in his car. Something in his pocket felt heavier, but he just assumed it was his cell phone, and thought nothing of it.

[ **You are really quick to jump to conclusions.** ]

[ **I’m also really quick at committing murder.** ]

[ **Can I tell a motherfucking story without you two interrupting?! Goddamn.** ]

He got in his car and turned the A/C on full-blast, feeling the sweat he knew (but didn’t feel or smell) that had acquired on his forehead cool down to practically ice. He sighed, about to pull out of the parking lot when he suddenly realized that something really wrong had just occurred; why the fuck was there something in his pocket when his cell phone had been sitting in the car this entire time?

He quickly fished out the mystery item to find a small piece of paper wrapped around something small and silver. When he unrolled it, he read the note first, ignoring whatever had fallen into his lap. [And I swear to Jesus Christ if you say something about him ‘needing to get his priorities straight’ I will fucking murder you.]

‘ _Read it._ ’

…Um, what? He picked up whatever had fallen in his lap and examined it; it was a silver Zippo that looked pretty scratched up and used frequently. What exactly was he supposed to read? The _lighter_? Ha, that’s ridic—

Upon further examination, Gerard realized that there was something engraved on the front that said: _Gee, this is my lucky Zippo. Do_ not _fucking lose it_ _again or I will_ kill _you_. _– xo F.I_.

 

XxXxXxXxX

 

“Huh?” Mikey raised his eyebrows which was his universal tell-tale sign of ‘ _I AM FREAING THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW HOLY SHIT!_ ’ And if Mikey was reacting like this, then Gerard sure was about to find himself in a major panic attack.

[ **M’kay, I can take it from here**.]

[ **Dude, Frank, you weren’t even there for that part.** ]

[ **So?! Bob wasn’t there for half of the parts that he told!** ]

[ **That’s because he’s Bob, and doesn’t mind getting into detail…** ]

[ **Are you saying I don’t give any detail when I tell the goddamned story?!** ]

[ **Yes. That is _exactly_ what I’m saying**.]

[ **Well, it’s my turn, so move the fuck over**.]

[ **Fine…but when they start to ask questions because _you_ didn’t specify—**]

[ **Then Gerard can just fill them in, isn’t that right Gee?** ]

[ **Uh, what? Yeah, sure. Don’t bother me…painting.** ]

[ **Fuck yeah! Okay so because I know you all love me so much, and you think Mikey is boring as fuck, I’ll just skip over the details and let this part be retold later! As for following along? Good luck; you motherfuckers are gonna need it.** ]

Gerard shrugged, “I don’t know Mikes. It just… _happened_.” He raked a hand through his hair (like he does all the fucking time).

[ **No commentary from the narrator, thank you.** ]

[ **Ugh, fine!** ]

Mikey set down the note, “So you’re telling me that you fell in love with some random dude you’ve probably never met before?”

Gerard sighed in exasperation and leaned back on the couch, “Mikey, you over exaggerate…but yes that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Nobody said anything for a few minutes until Mikey broke the silence.

“Just…run through it again.” Then he stuffed his hand in the Pringle container and shoved about ten chips in his mouth.

[ **Now who’s over exaggerating?** ]

[ **That’s not an exaggeration.** ]

[ **Dude, Mikey, I’ve seen you eat three pizza’s by yourself in a matter of two minutes…that’s not even possible.** ]

Gerard scrubbed over his face with his hands, “Okay so, I put all my shit in the back of the car.” The words came out mumbled from between his fingers.

“Mhmm.”

“And I pull out my last fucking cigarette.”

“Mhmm.”

“But then I discover, not for the first fucking time, that I don’t have a goddamned lighter!”

“Mhmm.”

Gerard peaked out from between his fingers, giving his brother a look of murderous rage, “If you say that one more time I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

“Mh—” but he stopped before he could finish. “Right…you never fucking have a lighter.” Then Gerard sighed and continued on with his story. He told Mikey how he realized that he didn’t have a fucking lighter—big surprise!—and he got so fucking pissed off because, shit, he hasn’t had nicotine in his system for two weeks and he was about to kill somebody. In order to avoid reminding himself of the fact that he probably wouldn’t get to smoke for another two weeks, Gerard was just going to throw the cigarette away. However, his plans were ruined when some ridiculously beautiful midget came up behind him and scared the fucking bjeezus out of him.

“So you fell in love with him when?” And Gerard could tell that Mikey wasn’t just trying to poke fun at him; it was a completely serious question.

“I don’t know, like…okay he came up behind me, and just the sound of his voice was, like, I don’t know.”

“I’m starting to get the feeling that you don’t know. Is that correct?”

“I-you…I _don’t_ _know_!”

“Thought so,” then he set down the Pringles (glad you’re finally getting your priorities straight, Mikes) and put his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together. “Gerard, listen,” he started, “We’re different, okay? If you think you knew this guy from the second you heard his voice then chances are—however horrible they might seem—that you know him. So I want you to tell me again, and answer without thinking this time: When did you fall in love with him?”

Gerard—who had been running his fingers over the scratches and engraving on the lighter—responded automatically, taking Mikey’s advice and just answering without even thinking about it first;

“One-thousand-eight-hundred-twenty-five years ago, four months from now...I never fucking have a lighter.”

“Mhmm.” And Gerard said nothing.


	7. ONLY Because You Said 'Bloody'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then what do you want?”  
> “To not be angry,” he said, looking very determined.
> 
> [...]
> 
> “I feel like it’s a sin if I shit in this bathroom…”

** THREE HOURS BEFORE THE PARTY **

 

Frank whipped open the door and stormed inside. The few people who were around gave him frightened looks, but they didn’t say anything; wise choice. Everybody knew that when Frank was in one of _those_ moods, you don’t do _anything_ to possibly upset him. Now, here’s what you’re thinking: “What is he, like, on his period or something! Haha!” Oh, haha NO. He wasn’t just angry when he was like this, he was fucking dangerous, and unless you wanted to be torn to shreds you stayed the fuck out of his way, or did everything he told you to.

[ **Am I really that bad?** ]

[ **Depends…are you in one of those moods right now?** ]

[ **Kinda, maybe. I don’t know…why?** ]

[ **Oh, nothing! No, nah, you’re definitely just like, a pile of roses, Frank!** ]

[ **You’re horrible at this, you know.** ]

[ **Ugh, I know.** ]

He walked up to the bar where Lyndzey was writing something that looked important, and slammed his fist on the table. Lyndzey’s pen bounced a bit, but otherwise she seemed unfazed.

“I’m upset,” he said loudly. Lyndzey—one of the few who doesn’t mind to get in the lion’s den—calmly looked up at him, set down her pen, folded her hands in her lap and nodded towards the chair next to her.

“Sit,” she said politely. She had been around long enough to know how to calm him down when he was acting like a total jackass. Reluctantly—and that’s with visible physical restraint not to punch her in the face—Frank lowered himself into the seat and took a deep breath.

“Now talk to me,” she said lightly; she also knew that even knowing Frank for this long, he was a different bomb every time this happened, and if you cut the wrong wire…well, I think we all know where _that_ would lead us.

“It’s October 20th,” Frank said.

“Yes,” Lyndzey said when Frank didn’t continue. Frank pursed his lips and his eyebrows drew together, but he still didn’t say anything. Lyndzey just sighed, “Okay, Frank. _Yes_ it is October 20th today, and in a few hours we’re going to put on a show—the first show of the season might I add—and there will be people who come and scream and cry and stare. After we have scared the shit out of those people, we’re all going to come back here,” she waved her hand around, “and we’re going to celebrate.”

Frank just gave her a blank stare, “Is that okay with you?” Lyndzey asked, raising her eyebrows. Frank slowly shook his head. “Then what do you want?”

“To not be angry,” he said, looking very determined.

Lyndzey nodded and smiled at him. “And how do you suggest we accomplish that?” She asked. He looked at her, stared deep into her eyes, searching for something, _anything_ ,to hold on to.

“This gets worse,” Frank said, “People lied to me. It doesn’t get better.” He paused for a second, just enough time to pick a piece of fuzz off of Lyndzey’s shirt and blow it away. “Every year. Every October, and this happens. I don’t know why. I don’t think I really want to know why. I just want it to stop. I want to stop being angry; I’m angry that I’m angry. This isn’t who I am. I’m not an angry person, but there’s something inside of me that just feels so…” he couldn’t find the word he was looking for.

“There’s something inside of you that feels lost.” Lyndzey said matter-of-factly. Frank snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

“Exactly! Yes! Something inside of me is lost…something is missing. Something that I need in order t-to just _breathe_.” Then he let out a whining sigh and collapsed onto the bar. Lyndzey rubbed his back soothingly.

“We’ll get it,” she said. “You’ll get it.”

“’Or rendsr comung t’nt, rut?” Frank’s voice was all muffled because his face was, y’know, chillin’ on the counter. However, Lyndzey understood him anyways. She laughed, “Yes, my friends are coming tonight.”

“’R thee ness perpel?”

“Yes, they are very nice people, thank you for asking.”

“’M terd.”

“I know you’re tired. Maybe you should just skip the party, huh?”

“Buh ah wun met ‘r rends.”

“I know you want to meet my friends.” There was a silence in which the only thing that could be heard was Lyndzey’s hand rubbing tiny circles across Frank’s back. “What if I asked them to stay the night? You can meet them in the morning.”

Frank took a deep breath and yawned. “M’ker.”

“Okay?”

“M’ker…er luer yer.”

“I love you too.”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** THE PARTY (WELL, AN HOUR AFTER IT STARTED) **

 

 _People_. The very first thing Gerard Way saw when he walked into this huge brightly-lit building was a mass of people. They were seated at various tables that were scattered around the room, walking among the crowd to socialize with _everyone_ —Gerard never understood how people could do that—and standing and/or sitting at the bar at the other end of the room. Gerard had only been to one party in his entire life, and he barely remembered any of it; it could have had something to do with the fact that he was still bloody when it happened or it could have something to do with the fact that he’d gotten drunk that night. Either way he hadn’t been prepared to come to this party. He had always assumed that parties were groups of people in dark basements who got drunk, smoked weed, laughed at jokes that generally weren’t funny, and did a lot of stupid things.

That did _nothing_ to help one imagine how this room looked. There were lights _everywhere_ ; even strings of coloured lights hung from the ceiling and glittered like tiny multi-coloured diamonds. Although Gerard could smell sweat, he didn’t catch one whiff of marijuana (okay, maybe he smelled it on the teenage kid who had pushed by him to go outside), and there was definitely no alcohol anywhere Gerard looked. He knew that he was staring at…everyone and everything, but he really couldn’t care less if anyone cared.

“Mikey,” he whispered, clinging to his brother and still looking around. Mikey barely tilted his head to hear Gerard better, but laughed and rolled his eyes when Gerard said, “Where the fuck are we?” He got no answer except for Mikey pulling him into the swelling, moving, abnormally body-heat-deprived crowd of people, tugging him along as he followed Jams to the other side of the room. When they finally reached the bar (literally five minutes later) Gerard saw that Jams was talking to a very pretty girl with bright eyes and a glossy smile. She was wearing skin-tight black pants (that looked like spandex)—

[ **That’s because they are spandex you idiot**!]

[ **BUT AT THE TIME I DIDN’T KNOW THAT YOU BITCH!** ]

[ ** _What’d you just call my best friend?_** ]

[ **I’m not as afraid of you as you think I am. I can withhold sex too.** ]

[ **…I’m going to fucking murder you.** ]

[ **Have fun enjoying _that_ sexless life!**]

—a black t-shirt that looked torn to shreds and underneath you could see her sports bra (neon pink). She was also sporting a bitchin’ pair of neon pink converse, and Gerard almost said something, but that would mean that she’d respond and then he’d be stuck in a conversation with this fuckin’ hot chick (and if Gerard was straight he’d be all over that shit), but he just _can’t_ talk to pretty people (hell, he can’t talk to normal people!) no matter what gender they are!

“So guys,” Jamia started once they reached her and gotten her attention. “I’d like you to meet Lyndzey.” The girl—Lyndzey—waved to them and smiled warmly and Gerard felt like he knew her from somewhere; from another life or something.

[ **We don’t like to put context clues in there, thank you very much.** ]

[ **Well too fucking bad; I like context clues.** ]

“Mikey. Nice to meet you,” Mikey said, shocking Gerard by actually smiling back _and_ shaking Lyndzey’s hand. Something was going on here. Then Lyndzey looked at Jams expectantly, as if she were supposed to say something really important—which she actually was.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jams said, reaching down and grabbing Lyndzey’s hand. _Wow_ , Gerard thought, feeling his eyes get wide. _I was_ not _expecting that one_.

“I could have guessed,” Mikey said, surprising Gerard yet again. “The way you look at her.” The tone in his voice was that of fondness, and Gerard was seriously starting to wonder what the actual fuck was going on here? Mikey didn’t just _show_ emotion! Mikey didn’t have a soul; he didn’t know what emotion was.

[ **Still don’t.** ]

[ **Thank you captain obvious.** ]

“So then, you approve?” Lyndzey asked with a lighthearted laugh. Mikey just nodded and then looked at Gerard, who had been quietly standing behind him, trying to stay unnoticed. “What about you, Gerard?” Oh, that fucking smirk; Gerard wanted to punch it right off his fucking smug face.

“Yes,” Gerard said slowly and steadily, as if having trouble saying the actual word itself. It felt foreign in his mouth; uncommon. But this just felt so right? Like, he understood what Mikey said when he mentioned how Jamia looked at her. He noticed that the look was easily returned, if it wasn’t being shown already. Lyndzey really did care for Jams.

“How long?” Mikey asked, once again drawing the attention away from Gerard, for which he was grateful.

“A few years?” She said guiltily, laughing slightly.

“Really?” Mikey asked, looking just as surprised as Gerard felt.

“Yeah,” Lyndzey said, “With The Parade travelling all year and whatnot…the time we get to see each other; it’s like we’ve only been dating for a few months, but all that time I’ve never wanted anyone else.” Gerard felt his mouth curl into a smile; he was so happy for Jams. Lyndzey smiled back at him, as if showing that she approved of him as well. “I’m sorry to ask, if it makes you uncomfortable,” she started, seeming to know full well that Gerard didn’t like to talk, “Your name is?”

“This is my brother, Gerard,” Mikey said, swooping in and saving the day. “He doesn’t really talk much. But if you get him going on comic books, horror movies, or art he’ll never shut up.” Gerard elbowed him in the side, but felt his face getting hot; Mikey was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. “He also never really stops singing…ever.” Mikey rolled his eyes, acting as if Gerard wasn’t trying to mentally strangle him.

“A singer? Are you any good?” Lyndzey seemed to be asking a very serious question. She glanced over to Jamia who met her eyes. Jams nodded and Lyndzey then looked at Mikey who just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.” Gerard said honestly, actually feeling comfortable talking to this complete stranger (okay, so she wasn’t a complete stranger, but she was close enough).

“Do you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?” She seemed hesitant, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to talk, I just thought—”

“Sure,” he interjected, nodding his head a few times. He let himself be steered away to the booth in the corner of the room. He sat down across from her, and folded his hands in his lap, chewing on his bottom lip, and kind of regretting this decision.

“So,” Lyndzey said, looking very excited. “Do you know anything about The Parade?” He shook his head, “We’re a traveling circus. A _haunted_ traveling circus,” this seemed to catch his attention, “And do you see that stage over there?” Gerard hadn’t noticed it when he walked in, but in the far corner of the room, there was a stage. It was dark and looked lonely.

“We’ve been looking for someone to fill that stage.” Uh oh…he knew where this was going. “I don’t just expect you to up and leave your life here, but for the time that we’re in Jersey…I mean, we can’t have just _anyone_ up there.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone who works here,” she said with a warmhearted smile. “We’re all…different. I’m sure you can relate.” Oh man could Gerard relate.

But… “So you’re saying that everyone—every person who works here. They’re not bloody?” He knew his terminology was a bit flawed, but it was a habit. He was never going to change who he was for anyone.

“I’ve never heard that term before,” she said with a laugh, “But yeah. Nobody here is bloody. A lot of us haven’t been bloody in a long time.” Gerard tried to imagine what it’d be like; living among people who were like him. Not having to hide who he was, not having to scrounge for food and live off Pringles (damnit, Mikey! This is why we can’t have nice things!), and to not have to go to _work_.

“Yes,” Gerard blurted out. Lyndzey looked shocked, but she looked very happy. “I’ll do it…but…” then the negatives started to creep into his mind; nobody knew what annoyed him, nobody knew not to drink the last of the coffee, nobody knew what had happened to him…

“I’ll do it, but I’m not even good,” he was half lying. He honestly didn’t know if he was good enough, but that’s not the real reason that he didn’t want to do it. A bright and mischievous smile crossed over her face and she looked back at the stage before turning to him.

“Do you want to try?” She asked. He just stared at her with a blank face.

“Now.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, not _now_.” She clarified. “Ray has the guitar with him,” she looked out among the crowd, searching for someone. She spotted him and waved him over, “how about in a few hours, when everyone leaves and it’s just us? And by ‘us’ I mean The Parade, but not a bunch of bloody strangers.”

“Fine,” he said, “but _only_ because you said ‘bloody’.” She laughed at that, and at that moment, someone appeared next to them. He looked a bit taller than Gerard, wearing black jeans, high tops and… “Are you wearing a waist coat?” Gerard asked, very impressed by his choice of fashion.

“Fuck yeah!” His voice was a shocking mix of high-squeak and low-gravel. Also, his hair was fucking amazing. Gerard had never seen that kind of Jew-fro ever before in his entire life.

“Ray,” Lyndzey said, “this is Gerard. He’s different, like us. Well, he’s different like Barakat and Stump and such, but he’s still different.” Gerard had no fucking idea what these words meant, but Ray seemed to get it.

“Ah, okay!” Gerard noticed that he had an electric guitar strapped to his back. He pulled it off, set it against the wall next to Gerard and slid into the booth by Lyndzey.

“Gerard is a singer who might be able to help us out.”

“I’m a _bad_ singer.” Gerard clarified, pointing at Lyndzey with a matter-of-fact tone and a knowing smile.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much.” Lyndzey said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her seat.

“Isn’t Frank in charge of that?” Ray asked, looking at her skeptically.

“Frank is somewhere currently _dying_ so he left me in charge. Oh, also he wanted to meet you guys,” she turned to Gerard. “I told him I’d ask you guys to stay the night. That way you could meet him in the morning.”

“So you’re saying that in a few hours I gotta sing in front of all these people, then I have to stay overnight, and meet some random dude who may or may not like the way I sing, but doesn’t actually get the final say because his immune system told him not to come tonight?”

“Essentially,” Lyndzey said smiling brightly. “But it’s not his immune system.” Gerard looked puzzled but didn’t say anything.

“Hey, man, I’ll catch you later, alright?” Ray stood up and smiled at Gerard before taking his guitar and disappearing back into the crowd.

 _Sigh_. This really was going to be a long night.

XxXxXxXxX

 

** WHEN THE PARTY ENDED… **

 

“Okay, everyone!” Lyndzey was standing on a table waving her arms frantically to try and get everyone’s attention. Slowly but surely the people who had been spread throughout the room, and some people who had been outside, started to trickle to the other end of the room and sit at/on the tables right near the front of the stage. Gerard (who had just been sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet back and forth) chewed on his bottom lip as he observed how everyone acted and how everyone was dressed.

There were two other girls dressed like Lyndzey but instead of pink, one of the girls had neon orange, and the other had neon green—they seemed plenty happy and almost _floated_ around the room as they talked to people. There was a really happy, but rather clumsy, guy who also wore a waist-coat, but it was red and he was wearing a really fuckin’ cool top-hat. There were a few people dressed in regular clothes; one of them was a guy that had crazy hair that was like a spiked mohawk, and the other was a girl who was kinda pretty and totally Mikey’s type. There were two guys who wore black t-shirts that said ‘SECURITY’ on the front, but one was really, really tall and the other was really kinda short.

And then Gerard noticed another guy who was dressed normally.

“Gabe?!” Gerard asked incredulously.

“Gee!” Gabe said, jumping over tables and crashing into him.

“Don’t call me that,” Gerard hissed back, pushing Gabe away. But Gabe just swung an arm around Gerard’s shoulders and pulled him close, a huge smile on his face. “Hey, guys! This is Gee! This was my boss at Starbucks!”

A few of the people seemed to know what that meant and either started laughing or had a very amused expression as they watched Gerard’s uncomfortable disposition. “If you still worked there you would be _soooooo_ fired,” Gerard said, shaking his head and making futile attempts to escape Gabe’s iron grip (even though he could easily push him away).

“No I wouldn’t,” Gabe laughed at looked down at Gerard, “You need someone to work the drive-thru, remember?”

“There’s always Ryan!”

“Okay, okay!” Lyndzey said, hopping from the table to the stage once everyone had been seated and quieted down.

“What’s goin’ on Lynz?” A brooding blonde guy asked, stepping forward and crossing his arms over his chest. Then Ray stepped out of the crowd and walked to stand next to where Gerard was sitting. Lyndzey cleared her throat, “So we’ve been looking for someone to fill this stage. We’ve been looking for quite some time now, and every time—”

“And every time you think you have someone, you end up being wrong. They usually suck.” _Is that supposed to make me feel better_? Gerard thought, narrowing his eyes at tall blonde guy.

“Okay, yes,” Lyndzey sighed, “I will admit that it hasn’t worked out in the past, but this is the present, and if you don’t want to stick around, Bob, then you can leave.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him challengingly. He just stepped back into the crowd and gestured for her to continue.

“I would let them do their own introductions, but since he doesn’t really like talking,” she glanced down at Gerard, “I’ll just do it for them.” She didn’t sound angry, just amused. “Over there is Mikey Way,” Mikey just waved at them, his face staying his normal blank stare (thank God), “And next to him is Jamia Nestor. She’s my girlfriend.” A few people cat-called or wolf-whistled but everyone else just cheered when Jamia smiled and waved at them.

“This is Mikey’s older brother, Gerard,” Lyndzey paused as if challenging someone to say otherwise. “Mikey says that Gerard sings a lot, but Gerard doesn’t think he’s any good and kinda hates me for making him do this.” Gerard rolled his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless. “Hopefully we can convince him that we’re not all horrible people,” she looked at Bob, “and in the long run him and Mikey will stay since Mikey plays the bass guitar. Ray has agreed to play guitar for Gerard while he, er, _auditions_ for us.” Then Lyndzey hopped off the stage, but before she walked away she turned to Gerard, placing her hands on his knees, “Good luck. Don’t mind Bob. He’s always like that.”

Then everyone was staring at him, and he was wondering how fast he could run out of there. But then decided to just stick it out—Lyndzey _had_ said ‘bloody’ after all. He cleared his throat, “H-hi,” he said with his regular awkward smile. He didn’t notice it, but a few of the girls in the audience looked at each other, putting their hands over their hearts as if they were breaking and whispered “ _Aww, he’s like a baby!_ ”

“What’re we doin’?” Ray said, getting his guitar set up. Gerard sat there and realized that he wasn’t sure if Ray knew any of the songs he liked.

“D’y’know The Smashing Pumpkins?” He asked quietly, pushing his hair behind his ear. Ray looked up at him and smiled, “Fuck yeah! Which song?” Gerard smiled back, feeling relieved. He drew his knees up and crossed his legs, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to decide.

“’Stand Inside Your Love’?” Ray’s smile widened and he nodded his head, starting to play the first chords. _Oh fuck_ …Gerard thought. He was so fucking nervous that he didn’t know if he’d make it through the song. He didn’t want to look at anyone, so when he looked out into the crowd, he kept his eyes hovering just above their heads.

“ _You and me, meant to be. Immutable, impossible, it’s destiny; pure lunacy, incalculable, insufferable,_ ” he was on melody, but barely anyone could hear him. Ray could, but that’s only because he was standing right next to him. Ray looked up at Gerard questioningly, and when their eyes met, Ray gave him this look ‘Keep singing…’ a few of the guys in the audience started to snicker. Bob had an ‘I-Told-You-So’ look on his face and was just looking at Lyndzey who looked rather worried. Mikey’s face gave nothing away and Jams gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.

However, it was that fucking smug-ass look on Bob’s face that really did it for Gerard. “ _But for the last time, you’re everything I want and ask for._ ” Everyone was screaming—he was amazing. “ _You’re all that I’d dreamed who wouldn’t be the one you love. Who wouldn’t stand inside your love, protected and the lover of a pure soul and a beautiful you._ ” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mikey smiling, just the littlest bit, and it made him want to cry; he and Mikey didn’t get along too well, but they were still brothers, and that wouldn’t change the pride they felt when the other was proud of something they’d done.

“ _Don’t understand, don’t feel me now, I will breathe for the both of us. Travel the world, traverse the skies. Your home is here: within my heart_.” And by some miracle that was when Ray stopped playing, and Gerard stopped singing, and it was a perfect ending. Gerard hopped off the stage and wanted to curse himself for the giant grin that crossed his face, but he looked at Ray who was smiling just as big (if not bigger) and suddenly he didn’t care anymore. After everyone had _finally_ stopped clapping and whooping and cheering, which was almost five minutes later, Lyndzey bounded up to Gerard and grabbed his hand, looking deep into his eyes.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think you’re a bad singer,” she said with a blinding grin, “Seriously fucking mental…or deaf. Or both.” Gerard was so surprised and overwhelmed by everyone and everything that he just stared at Lyndzey before stuttering, “O-okay.”

Bob stepped out of the crowd and walked up to Gerard who wore a rather stony look, despite feeling incredibly nervous. Then Bob’s gloomy melted into a smile— _Wow,_ Gerard thought, _Bob looks way better when he smiles_.

[ **Don’t get used to it.** ]

[ **Don’t worry, I’m not.** ]

“Every time you’re on stage? I expect to see _that_ ,” he clapped Gerard on the shoulder and moved away. Lyndzey and Ray (and everyone else) were giving Gerard shocked looks—Bob didn’t compliment, smile at, hug, or clap on the motherfucking shoulder, _anyone_ to exist ever. “It’s a miracle!” Ray whispered to Lyndzey who just smiled back and nodded enthusiastically. Gerard cleared his throat and nodded to the crowd; they were all sitting in their seats, smiling and laughing at jokes.

“You can all go home now!” Lyndzey said, waving her hand. Everyone let out a collective ‘ _aw!_ ’, but started to leave nonetheless. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here tomorrow.” Lyndzey reassured them. They all let out one final cheer before dispersing. Mikey and Jamia walked up to meet Gerard, Lyndzey, and Ray.

“Wait, Barakat!” Just as one guy was leaving the room, Lyndzey stopped him, and when he looked over with a question mark on his face, she waved him over. He was kinda tall, and his hair was also quite amazing.

“’Sup?” He asked.

“I was wondering if you could have Gerard, Mikey, and Jams with you tonight? I _would_ offer to take Jams off your hands, but, y’know, Frank—” Apparently that was all the explanation he needed.

“Yeah, sure! No problem,” he bobbed his head up and down. “I was just gonna leave now, you guys wanna come?” He looked at Gerard expectantly. Gerard looked at Jamia. Jamia looked at Mikey. Mikey…well, Mikey didn’t do much. He never really did much.

“Sure,” Gerard answered finally, when he saw that no one else was going to say something. Lyndzey gave Jams a quick peck on the lips, waved goodnight to them and then bounded off somewhere else. Ray, who had just decided to stick around for a while, also waved goodnight.

“Alright,” the guy—Barakat—said. “Follow me!” He lead them outside, “Here’s how this usually works; you guys are gonna stay in my trailer with Patrick, and I’ll go sleep with someone else.”

“Well, we don’t wanna put you out or anything!” Jams started, a worried look on her face.

“No, no! Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving her off. “I don’t sleep in my trailer most of the time anyways. I’m sure Patrick will be happy with the company. Now, I think one of you will have to sleep on the floor, but it’s really comfortable because I have three bean-bag chairs. I mean, unless one of you wants to sleep with Trick?” They all glanced among themselves.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he laughed. “Oh, I’m Jack, by the way. Everyone usually just calls me Barakat. Don’t know why; it’s the most annoying last name ever.” Gerard noticed that the walk—through the pitch-fucking-dark—from the bar to Jack’s trailer had gone by very quickly, and he hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going. They finally arrived at a trailer who still had the outside lights on (one of the only trailers with lights on).

“Here’s where you guys’ll be staying.” He pointed at the door. “I’m gonna be right over there,” he pointed to another trailer (lights on) that was about 20 yards away. “If you guys need anything just knock on the door. I don’t know if we’ll be sleeping anyways.” He laughed and then said goodbye to them, walking off into the dark.

Before the three of them entered the trailer Mikey looked at them, “I wonder if Patrick even knows we’re staying with him.” But that question was answered when the door opened, and standing in the door was a short guy wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hat.

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a smile. When they looked at him questioningly he just pointed to his head, “Ears, y’know?” And if they didn’t know better they would have thought that he was insulting their intelligence. “So, uh, come inside, I guess,” he stepped out of the way and let them inside. The first thing Mikey did when he came inside, was jump on the bed.

“C’mon, Jams.” He said, patting the small space next to him.

Gerard just looked at him like ‘Are-You-Fucking-Kidding-Me?’. Mikey smirked at him. “You get floor,” he said with a yawn before falling back on the bed and falling asleep instantly. Jams looked at Gerard guiltily.

“Sorry,” she said. “If it makes you feel any better; I would have rather slept with you.” She pat him on the arm and then crawled onto the bed right next to Mikey. That just left Gerard and Patrick.

“ _Motherfuck_. Shit…I got floor, I guess.” Gerard said, kicking his shoes off, grabbing a blanket off the bed, and falling back onto the bean-bag chairs that had been piled together. “Hey, this is not half fucking bad at all.” He said with a nod of approval. Patrick, who had been sitting on his bed with an amused face, smiled at him.

“So you’re going to sleep right away?” He asked.

“Hell yeah,” Gerard yawned. “Real fuckin’ tired.”

“You swear a lot when you’re sleepy.” Patrick said observantly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Gerard sighed, rolling over and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “And goddamnit, Patrick, who the fuck says ‘sleepy’ anymore?” Patrick just laughed at him, “Well, goodnight then,” he said turning off the light and crawling under his covers.

And just before he drifted off to sleep, Gerard mumbled:

“Good-fucking-night, Patrick.”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** THE NEXT MORNING (AROUND 10:15AM) **

 

“ _Rise and shine, princess!_ ” It was a rather rude awakening; loud and boisterous and right next to Gerard’s motherfucking _ear_. Naturally this led him to conclude that Mikey was, once again, being a major assface.

“Hop off,” Gerard said, shooing Mikey away with the wave of his hand, and rolling over, pulling the covers over his head. But something about his bed didn’t feel right. It was comfortable…why was it comfortable? He threw the blanket off, sat up quickly, and looked around with wide eyes. Mikey was wearing the same thing he’d worn yesterday, and judging by the gross sticking thing his eyelashes were doing because of the eyeliner, Gerard could guess that his ensemble was also from yesterday.

What were they doing yesterday? And why is Gerard sleeping on some comfortable ass bean-bag chairs? And why did Mikey have to be so annoying all the time?

[ **‘S my job.** ]

[ **You’re fired.** ]

“What?” Gerard said, confused. It was the only thing his brain could comprehend. “What?” He looked up at Mikey who was smirking and in his hand was, “ _Holy fucking tits, where’d you get coffee_?!” Gerard scrambled to his feet and leaned closer to Mikey, inhaling the delicious scent.

“God, get away from me!” Mikey said, batting Gerard away.

“God is nowhere near you right now.” Gerard replied, eyeing the cup greedily; he was contemplating stealing it because Gerard was generally a nice person, but when it came to coffee? Don’t even get him started.  

“Here.” Mikey said, holding out the cup. “It’s yours.” Gerard’s brain blew up; his eyes went wide, his mouth dropped, and everything that he had ever thought was amazing suddenly seemed like math class. _Mikey was_ giving _him_ coffee! Mikey didn’t just _give_ people things, let alone his own brother; this was a big fucking deal.

“I would kiss you, but you’re gross.” Gerard said, downing the coffee like it was a welcoming bottle of Jack. He sighed and closed his eyes at the warm feeling that flowed down his throat and to his stomach, swishing around in a happy dance of pure awesomeness. He held the cup up to his nose and inhaled, groaning at the smell.

“ _I’m_ gross?” Mikey said, offended. “Really, Gerard? You have, like, a motherfucking orgasm every time someone says the word ‘coffee’!”

“Mmm,” Gerard said, wearing a very rarely seen shit-eating grin. “Careful, Mikey. I have to wear these pants for the rest of the day.” Then he wagged his eyebrows and laughed when Mikey pushed his arm, rolling his eyes, but Gerard could clearly see the smile on his face.

“Now _that’s_ gross.” He said, laughing slightly. Gerard shrugged, and then resumed what he had been doing _before_ receiving the best Mikeyway peace-offering to ever exist.

“Uh…” suddenly he felt very small, and very scared. He may be happy—ecstatic—to have some coffee in his system, but that would never stop the overwhelming anxiety that seemed to creep into his system when he wasn’t at home, in his room, where he could take his shoes off if he wanted to. _Oh, shit_! He looked down at his feet in a panic, but sighed in relief when he noticed he was still wearing them. Mikey smiled at him, fondly, not wanting to tell him that he _had_ taken his shoes off last night, but that Mikey put them back on his feet that morning before waking him up.

“C’mon,” Mikey said, nodding to the door behind him. Gerard stretched before scratching his head and following his brother outside. Nobody else had been in the trailer; Jams and Patrick were nowhere to be seen. There weren’t any people outside either, but compared to Mikey, Gerard reacted rather severely—rather embarrassingly.

He hissed, in physical pain, when he stepped outside into the sunlight. So there was this thing about non-bloody people like him not liking sunlight, right? Thing is: Mikey fucking _loved_ the sun, and Jams went on vacation to Florida a few years ago. It was just him. He was so stereotypical that Mikey almost wanted to punch him in the face so that people wouldn’t get creeped out when they asked him, “What’s wrong with your face?” and he had to reply, “Sunlight.”

“God, Gerard,” Mikey said, shaking his head, “Put your fuckin’ big-boy pants on and deal with it! It’s _just_ the _sun_!”

Gerard glared at him (well, glared as much as he could with his eyes already all squinty and barely even open), “It’s not ‘ _just_ the _sun_!’, okay? It fuckin’ hurts, man. I’ve told you that before. Hop off!” Gerard had no fucking clue where they were even walking, but he was hoping it was some place with a mirror, because not only did he hate the way he looked usually, but he got extremely nervous when he had to be in front of other people. “Where’re we even going?”

“Bathroom. I know the prima donna needs her time to get all beautiful before putting on a show.”

“That’s not fuckin’ funny, Mikey; I don’t wanna sing again.”

“Too bad.” Mikey said as they approached the rather nice building that everyone used as a bathroom. It was essentially a house, but every room was just a bathroom. How they could afford it? Nobody fuckin’ knew. It was almost like…magic.

[ **Seriously?! What is with you people and context clues?** ]

[ **That wasn’t even a context clue. It was foreshadowing!** ]

[ **Either way? _This is why we can’t have nice things._** ]

“What do you mean ‘too—” but Gerard was cut off mid-sentence because he was just standing in the doorway, staring down a long narrow hall with, like, ten doors on each side, and a staircase at the end. “Whoa. Now _that_ is fuckin’ cool.” He followed Mikey to one of the open doors and when they went inside, Gerard almost passed out.

“How is this a thing?!” He turned around and looked at Mikey in bewilderment. Mikey just shut the door behind them and shrugged. “I-I just…I can’t…I don’t….”

“Shh,” Mikey said, walking up to Gerard and petting his head in a demeaning manner. “Just let it happen, Gee. Just let it happen.” Gerard sighed, not even calm enough to yell at Mikey for being a buttfuck.

Oh, what was he freaking out about? Well, let me tell you! On the far wall was a shower/bathtub (pretty nice, in fact). The wall directly to their right had a door that led to the toilet. The other wall had a vanity with a mirror that stretched along the entire wall,  three royal-looking chairs so that one could sit and look in the mirror, and two sinks—one on either side. And in the middle of the motherfucking room? Two goddamned couches that were made of a plush and velvety material.

“I feel like it’s a sin if I shit in this bathroom…” Gerard said once Mikey let go of him and he felt stable enough to not pass out. Mikey didn’t say anything, but moved to the couch instead and watched his brother in amusement. Gerard wandered around the room in silence for a while—another nervous habit—before he finally plopped down in one of the chairs and looked at himself in the mirror. He sat there for a good five minutes, not even blinking, before turning around and looking at Mikey with a very blank expression. “I don’t want to take my shoes off.”

Oh, the bathroom was carpeted, too.

“Then don’t.”

“But the carpet…”

“Then take your shoes off.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Gerard if you don’t make a motherfucking decision in the next five seconds, so help me I will go come over there and—”

“Okay, okay!” Gerard said, turning back around. “I won’t take my shoes off!” He looked at himself for another second before looking at Mikey in the mirror. “I look really gross.”

So maybe we should evaluate what Gerard Way means when he says _I look really gross_ , shall we? His pristine green converse were still in mint-condition, his jeans had _one_ wrinkle at the bottom, his t-shirt wasn’t sweaty or gross, and his jacket was fine. His hair looked wind-blown and pretty damn attractive (as always), and there…right in the middle of his face…

“Gerard, you have like _one part_ of eyeliner that smudged.” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe.” He clarified. “You’re really self-conscious, and I don’t know why. You’re _fine_.” Gerard wanted to say something back, but he didn’t want to sound like he was fishing for compliments or anything; he really _did_ think he looked gross. Nobody else would, but why should he care about their opinions?

“Fix your eyeliner.” Mikey said, walking over to him and hopping up on the counter. “Let’s get you more coffee.” Gerard’s face lit up, and he set to work—the ten minute task of taking his pinky finger, and carefully, _carefully_ wiping away the one millimeter black smudge that protruded from the corner of his eye.

As Mikey was leading Gerard back to the ‘bar’—which was more like a place where they just did shit—Gerard had a very sudden thought. “What did you mean ‘too bad’?” There was no reply until they had almost reached the door.

“What?” Mikey asked, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“I don’t want to sing again!” Gerard said, stomping his feet a little. Mikey looked back at him and smiled wickedly.

“Too bad.”


	8. [Reset: 100]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to go drink two pots of coffee now.” Mikey didn’t reply, and Gerard walked away. Jamia scooted over and patted the seat next to her. Mikey slid into the booth alongside her and Lyndzey, his expression characteristically blank.
> 
> “I thought you already brought him a cup this morning?” Lyndzey said, leaning forward and looking at him.
> 
> Mikey snorted, “That’s like saying, ‘I thought you already drove fifteen hundred miles with one tank of gas?’. Trust me, it’s not enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've been waiting FOREVER for this so I hope it's okay??

** THE BAR/PLACE WHERE THEY JUST DID SHIT… **

 

During this time of the year, telling Frank to do or believe anything he didn’t want to was like trying to deter a bullet to the head; only Superman had ever stopped one of those, and they don’t _have_ a Superman. So in other words: They’re fucked.

“Okay, I know I said that I didn’t want to be angry anymore, but I’m finding that a very difficult task to complete when I keep hearing shit like this.” Frank’s brows furrowed in deep concentration. Lyndzey knew better than to say something while he was deep in thought _and_ on his supernatural period. “I just—I don’t…I can’t believe you.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Any of you. I can’t believe any of you.” He shook his head, taking a sip of his apple juice through a bendy straw—he usually only drank coffee in the morning, but when he was in one of _these_ moods, it was best to feed his hatred with anything that had sugar in it. “There is _no_ way that’s even possible. You were probably just really tired last night.”

Lyndzey, who was sitting across from him, her arms folded over her chest, raised her eyebrows and just marveled at him. Marveled at how he could literally throw the calmest temper-tantrum she’s ever seen. He wasn’t actually yelling, he wasn’t stomping around, he wasn’t crying. He was sitting there, his eyes on the brink psychosis, denying everything anyone said to him. Even something as trivial as, “Good morning!” warranted the reply, “ _Is it?!_ ”

Ray walked up and slid into the booth next to Frank, “I’m tellin’ you, man; the kid’s good. He’s really good. I think you’d like him.”

 _Ugh_ , Frank thought, rolling his eyes. That’s what he’d been hearing _all morning_! Everything out of anyone’s mouth was along the lines of, ‘Oh, he’s so amazing! I can’t believe he might stay!’ He had listened to those comments for hours…those comments and the current mystery of the morning: Where was he? Nobody who knew would say, and if they did, they still didn’t, because they didn’t want to deal with the wrath of Lyndzey Ballato when they broke a promise.

“He can’t be _that_ good.” Frank muttered, staring into his cup. It was definitely common for everyone to be excited by strangers. They were stuck around the same twenty people all year round! So when someone new showed up, or stayed overnight, or wasn’t there just for them to entertain, it was a big fucking deal.  Frank still remembers when he first met Lyndzey. Everyone had freaked the fuck out—well, there weren’t many of them back then, but for those who were around? They shit bricks.

[ **You guys were horrible. I thought you were going to suffocate me.** ]

[ **You were a new person among ten people who had spent the last five years only with those nine other people. Of course they were going to suffocate you!** ]

“I really don’t like upsetting you,” Lyndzey said, only half telling the truth, “But he is! He really is _that_ _good_!” She bounced up and down in her seat, “He’s like Jesus. Well, if Jesus had a Jesus, it would be this guy.” She nodded, and Ray nodded in agreement.

 _Damnit!_ Frank thought, letting out a frustrated noise. _That is the last fucking straw!_ He hadn’t even seen this guy; didn’t know anything about him. What if he was some weirdie that was going to try and kill them all in the middle of the night to fuel his strange fetish? Nobody fucking knew! Frank sure as hell didn’t, and he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea that this random stranger was more popular among his friends than _he_ was and he ran the entire goddamned show!

“I’m so sick of hearing this shit!” Frank said, suddenly feeling like he was hyperventilating. “I wasn’t there. You’re just…you probably had a lapse of judgment _because he’s new_!” Frank sneered the last part, pouting his lips while his eyebrows drew together in anger.

“I’ll give that to you,” Ray said, “Yeah, maybe _we_ did, but didn’t you hear?”

Frank shot him a sidelong glance, “ _No_.” He said pointedly.

Ray looked at Lyndzey for encouragement before continuing on. She nodded and smiled so he thought it was okay to continue, “So obviously you haven’t heard, but _Bob_ liked him.” And Frank, who had started to take a drink, froze. His eyes went wide, and his grip on the cup was so tight that it broke, glass falling everywhere. Slowly he turned his head to look at Ray who had a rather conflicted expression on his face; was he proud that Frank had freaked the fuck out, or was he fucking terrified as shit?

Frank sputtered, “Bob…?”

“Kid got a motherfucking pat on the shoulder.” Ray said, choosing to ignore the fact that apple juice was starting to seep into his clothes, and just focusing on disarming the bomb he knew had started to count down from one hundred. 

When it reached zero? You don’t really wanna know. 

[ _99_.]

“I must kill him,” Frank said darkly. “I will _destroy_ him.”

[ _98_.]

Ray got up to get napkins, and Frank uncurled his fist, fine pieces of glass falling from his hand. _That should have hurt_ , he thought. Lyndzey—who totally didn’t mind playing tennis with a nuclear bomb—just sighed and leaned forward, talking very quietly so that no one could hear them.

“Listen, Frank,” she said with a pained expression on her face. “Jamia warned me about him. He’s really…broken. Just completely wrecked on the inside. He _hates_ all of this attention. He’s probably begging Jamia to take him home right now. He was so nervous. He was—he was terrified! Don’t scare him away, okay? We need him and you know it.”

[ _97?_ ]

Ray sat back down and started to clean up, sweeping the glass into a paper cup. Now it was Frank’s turn to look conflicted; what was he going to do? He was still pissed off, but they really _did_ need someone good enough to rake in a _lot_ of money. But it had to be someone they could trust, and Frank?

Frank didn’t trust him at all.

[ _96._ ]

“Lyndzey,” Frank started slowly. “I see wh—” he was cut off by something suddenly crashing into Lyndzey and clinging to her like a leech.

“Hey, Jamia!” Ray said with a smile on his face. He felt relieved that someone else was here to ease the tension that was rapidly building.

[ _97._ ]

But on the other hand, the fact that she knew Gerard so well? Ray had started to think that maybe that _wasn’t_ such a good thing.

[ _96._ ]

“G’morning!” She smiled at Ray and then up at Lyndzey who was laughing and patting her on the head. Frank snorted and looked away, pretending that she wasn’t there. He felt kinda bad, but he just wanted to be mad at everything today.

“Don’t. Do. That.” Lyndzey said darkly. “This is my _girlfriend_ , you jackass!” Hearing that word pulled at something in Frank’s heart, but he tried to clamp it down and ignore the overwhelming happiness he felt. His face was blank when he looked at both of them. Jamia looked confused, almost hurt.

“Sorry,” Frank said tightly.

[ _Reset: 100._ ]

“You weren’t very believable, but I’ll let it slide since you’re PMSing.” Lyndzey then looked down at Jamia who was still hugging her waist. “We may have a problem.”

“Oh no!” Jamia said, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “What is it? It’s not me, right?!”

“No, no!” Lyndzey assured her, “It’s not you. It’s – well, it’s Gerard.” _God_ , Frank had never heard his name before, but it gave him a funny feeling; set his heart at a hundred miles a minute, and messed with his head until it was swimming through a haze of emotions. That wasn’t a good thing, right?

[ _99._ ]

“What about Gerard?” Jamia sat up. Her face was still worried, but her voice had grown defensive.

“Well, Frank here,” Lyndzey gestured across the table. “He doesn’t care for Gerard much. He doesn’t really trust him, even though he doesn’t know him. I find that incredibly idiotic.” She rolled her eyes, “Either way, I feel that Frank may say or do something to make himself look like a complete assfuck in front of everyone and potentially scare Gerard away.”

Frank desperately wanted to disagree with her, but he really couldn’t say that she was lying at all. In fact, she was a little psychic. Either way: [ _98._ ]

[ **God, Frank, you looked like such a dumbass!** ]

[ **Shut up!** ]

[ **He’s right. You shouldn’t call him a dumbass…yet. Not yet.** ]

Jamia bit her bottom lip, “Okay, here’s the thing about Gerard,” she said, “He’s as violent and aggressive as a baby deer, right? That’s good, but when he feels like he’s being threatened, or if he starts to feel vulnerable…well, then he’s as cuddly as a mountain lion that hasn’t been fed in – in _years_.” Listening to how serious Jamia sounded, he was starting to second guess his decision to be angry. He really didn’t want to deal with shit like that; he had enough problems.

“But once you get to know Gerard,” Jamia said, sounding hesitant. “He’s pretty sassy. He’s kind of a ten year old girl sometimes? Not often, but he’s really witty, and will make you look like a fucking dumbshit if you try and tell him off.” Her face turned stormy, “I would know. I have a bit of personal experience.”

Lyndzey turned to Frank, “So what are we going to do when we meet Gerard?” She sounded like she was addressing a group of highly incompetent first graders.

“Fuck off.” Frank said.

“Just watch yourself, ‘kay?” She stared him down but was ultimately the one to look away first when something caught her eye. “Remember _everything_ Jamia said,” she was looking over at the other side of the room where some skinny guy in glasses was walking towards them. Trailing behind was a guy keeping his head down and avoiding looking at anything other than the feet in front of him.

When the guy with glasses stopped in front of them, his friend almost ran into his back, and Frank could only barely contain his laughter, which earned him a rather horrifying glance from the other guy.

“Frank,” Jamia said, “this is Mikey Way, and _that_ is Gerard Way.”

“And I love my brother very much,” he added icily, his threat weaved between his words by the venom in his voice: _If you insult again my brother I will personally beat your skull in with a metal baseball bat_.

[ _97_.]

Gerard was so focused on keeping his head down and avoiding drawing attention to himself that he didn’t even notice what Mikey had said. However, if he _had_ heard it, he probably would have said, “You do?” because Mikey never admitted to actually have emotions. Despite his best efforts, that was the approximate moment that someone had decided to notice him.

“Gee!” Gerard cringed at the name, and surprisingly enough, so did Frank. It just didn’t sit right in his stomach. It felt wrong coming out of someone else’s mouth, and for some reason it made him angry.

[ _96_.]

“Gabe!” Gerard said, turning around, “I honestly don’t know how many times I have to say this, or have had to say this, but that is _not my name_. So stop calling me that.” Gabe walked up to Gerard and threw an arm around his shoulders—Frank felt a fire explode in his chest and he was just so fucking done with this day that it wasn’t even funny. He was sitting there fuming, and secretly hoping that Gerard would punch Gabe in the face, and also secretly hoping that Mikey would move out of the goddamned way so that he could see Gerard.

[ _95…94…93…_ ]

“Aw, come on, Gee!” Gabe said, squeezing Gerard’s shoulders.

“Oh, alright, Gabriella.” Gerard said, smirking. Gabe froze for a second, then he dropped his arm and looked at Gerard dumbly.

“My name isn’t Gabriella…” he said, sounding confused.

“ _Exactly_!” Gerard yelled, his arms flailing in a flutter of emotion, “That’s why I don’t _call_ _you_ _that_!” He knew full well that he had attracted a lot more attention now, but he really could care less at this point. In all honestly, he had told Gabe that ‘Gee’ wasn’t his name about 50 times, and that’s not even an exaggeration.

“Oh,” Gabe said slowly, a smile spreading across his face, “I get it! I won’t call you ‘Gee’ anymore.” He nodded decisively, “Catch you later, Gerard.” Then he walked away, leaving Gerard feeling both accomplished and worn out. He didn’t even turn around to face Mikey when he said, “One of these days I might seriously flip shit and kill that kid.”

Mikey replied by turning to Ray, Lyndzey, Frank, and Jamia and saying, “So Gerard was telling me how great it would be for him to sing again.” Lyndzey and Jamia knew that Mikey was just being a jerk, but Ray and Frank _didn’t_ know, so it sounded like Gerard thought that he was so good that he just had to sing again. Frank frowned.

[ _92_.]

Gerard scowled at the ground, “I was actually telling you how much you’re a fucking assface and that I hope you burn in the fiery pits of hell.” Ah, so he _didn’t_ want to sing again. That made a bit more sense. Gerard’s reply to Mikey was actually so funny to Frank that he decided to dub Gerard the Sass Queen of Witty Replies.

[ **That’s a professional title, motherfucker. You better check yourself.** ]

[ **As you wish, Your Royal Majesty.** ]

[ _93…94._ ]

“Yes,” Mikey said, not turning around either. “And I believe I replied that I couldn’t go to hell, seeing as I was _already_ _there_.” Frank decided that he liked Mikey. He didn’t like the fact that he’d threatened his very existence a few seconds ago, but otherwise he thought Mikey was a pretty chill guy.

“Don’t forget to send a postcard every month. Satan and I have a lot of catching up to do.” And even though he really didn’t want to, Frank found himself smiling at Gerard’s strange sense of humor. _Stop that_ , he told himself. _We don’t like him, remember_?

[ _Reset: 100_.]

“But in all seriousness,” Lyndzey addressed Gerard gently. “Would you sing again? I’m sure everyone would love to hear it.” Gerard didn’t have to look up to see the smile in her voice. It made him happy; Lyndzey was such a nice person, so he really felt like he couldn’t say no to her.

But he couldn’t say yes either, “I’m going to go drink two pots of coffee now.” Mikey didn’t reply, and Gerard walked away. Jamia scooted over and patted the seat next to her. Mikey slid into the booth alongside her and Lyndzey, his expression characteristically blank.

“I thought you already brought him a cup this morning?” Lyndzey said, leaning forward and looking at him.

Mikey snorted, “That’s like saying, ‘I thought you already drove fifteen hundred miles with one tank of gas?’. Trust me, it’s _not_ enough.”

“He makes himself at least ten cups at work. I don’t know how he doesn’t just fucking explode.” Jamia laughed.

“But seriously,” Lyndzey said, drawing the attention back to the matter at hand. “Would he sing again? Not everyone got to hear him, and besides, Frank is a non-believer.” Mikey looked at Frank and regarded him carefully. “Frank doesn’t like Gerard at all, actually.” Lyndzey said, earning her a strange look from Frank.

[ _99._ ]

“Well that’s a fucking lie,” Mikey said flatly.

Frank sputtered, “ _What_?!”

“Yeah, like you actually don’t like _my brother_.” Mikey rolled his eyes, “You have to. Everyone does, no matter how much they don’t want to. He’s a likeable person. You liking him, if you don’t already, is inevitable.” He shrugged and Frank just stared stupidly.

[ _98? 97?_ ]

[ **He actually fucking said that, Gerard!** ]

[ **Yeah, I know. Mikey’s kind of a badass.** ]

“That’s true, actually.” Jamia said, nodding eagerly.

“ _I_ like Gerard.” Lyndzey said, “No offense, Jamia, but if I was straight I would tap that _so_ fucking hard.” She shrugged and ignored the completely horrified look she received from Frank.

[ _96\. 95. 94. 93._ ]

“Why would I take offense to that?” Jamia said, looking at Lyndzey and smiling. “If _I_ was straight I’d be right there with you.”  And then they both looked at Ray who looked both embarrassed and shocked. “Well?” Jamia asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ray sighed, “I’ll admit it; if I was gay I’d probably cut every bitch who tried to date him.”

[ _92\. 91. 90. 89. 88. 87. 86. 85. […] 65._ ]

“Don’t even think about dragging me into this topic,” Mikey said, shaking his head. He didn’t even seem surprised that they all felt this way, which was _way_ weirder than them feeling this way.

[ _64\. 63. 62. […] 50._ ]

“That’s not the point!” Lyndzey said, pounding her fist on the table and causing Jamia to jump a little. “We keep getting off the topic. Would Gerard sing again or not?!”

“I’d never force my brother to do something he didn’t want to do, or assume that he would or wouldn’t do something. But I will gladly take an educated guess on this one and say that if _you_ go up to him and ask him very quietly and no one else can hear, then he won’t even give you an answer. He’ll already be on the fucking stage.” Lyndzey sat and took this in.

“Move.” She said, “ _Move, move!_ ” Mikey and Jamia scrambled to get out of the booth so that Lyndzey could get out to go find Gerard.

Before she left, Mikey grabbed her wrist, “You also should probably suggest what song to sing. I’d say anything by the Smashing Pumpkins, The Smiths, Misfits, Black Flag…” He was racking his brain to think of any other bands, “Oh, if you’re nice enough he’ll sing one of his own songs.”

[ _51\. 52. 53. 54. 55._ ]

“He _writes_ music?!” Lyndzey asked, her jaw dropping. Mikey just nodded. “The chords are pretty simple. Anyone who can play the guitar can play one of his songs.” They all knew he was referring to Ray, but he didn’t say anything. Lyndzey just smiled at Mikey.

“Thank you,” she said before turning and walking away.

XxXxXxXxX

 

Thirty minutes, one panic attack, seven Pop-Tarts, two incredibly rude insults, and thirteen cups of coffee later is when Lyndzey had finally managed to get Gerard to agree to sing again. They called Ray over and told him that Gerard was going to sing one of his own songs and that Ray needed to learn the chords—they were so simple that it only took about two minutes for him to figure out the entire song.

So Gerard was once again sitting on the edge of the stage, about twenty people sitting in front of him, Ray sitting next to him and absolutely everything could go wrong. Lyndzey stepped in front and addressed the crowd, “Okay I know most of you don’t want to hear me standing up here and just saying shit to you guys, so I’m going to tell you guys right now: it took a lot of effort to get our friend back on stage, and you motherfuckers need to pay attention to him okay?”

Everyone yelled back, “Okay!” Then Lyndzey moved back into the crowd. Ray looked at Gerard with a smile on his face, and suddenly Gerard realized that he really thought Ray was a cool guy, and if he had to trust anyone with his songs it would _definitely_ be Ray. Gerard swallowed loudly, but he nodded anyways.

Ray started to play the opening chords, and Gerard felt his stomach heave, but when he opened his mouth, his voice was loud and steady.

“ _And if your heart stops beating, I’ll be here wondering: Did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life, and if you get to heaven, I’ll be here waiting, babe, did you get what you deserve? The end, and if your life won’t wait, then your heart can’t take this!_ ” Lyndzey turned around and looked at Mikey, her face in pure admiration. Mikey shrugged, but his mouth was turned up just enough to be considered a smile.

“ _Have you heard the news that you’re dead?”_ Everyone cheered, absolutely loving this song more than humanly possible. “ _No one ever had much nice to say, I think they never liked you anyway. Oh, take me from the hospital bed. Wouldn’t it be grand? It ain’t exactly what you planned, and wouldn’t it be great if we were dead?_ ”

The entire time he was singing, he wasn’t looking at anyone. He was projecting, but he was singing into his lap. Ray nudged him with the guitar and when he looked up, startled, Ray nodded towards the crowd. Gerard was almost afraid to look, but the smile on Ray’s face was really reassuring. He looked out into the sea of people who were smiling, head banging, dancing in their seats, and clapping for him.

It gave him just a tiny vote of confidence.

“ _Tongue-tied and oh so squeamish. You never fell in love; did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life. And if you get to heaven, I’ll be here waiting, babe, did you get what you deserve? The end, and if your life won’t wait, then your heart can’t take this! Have you heard the news that you’re dead? No one ever had much nice to say, I think they never liked you anyway…_ ” People were even starting to sing along. Then he reached the bridge.

“ _And in my honest observation, during this operation. Found a complication in your heart, so long! Cause now you’ve got maybe just two weeks to live. Is that the most that both of you can give?_ ” And Gerard had told Ray he could improvise a bit on this part, but he never expected the insanely amazing guitar solo that he created right off the top of his head.

“ _One! Two! One, two, three, four: la la la la la_ …” and once again, everyone started to sing along. As they kept singing that part—largely due to Ray who actually knew the song—Gerard started to sing over them. “ _If life ain’t just a joke then why are we laughing? Why are we laughing? If life ain’t just a joke then why am I dead? DEAD!_ ” Ray slammed the last chords and the room fell completely silent for a second, and then erupted into an explosion of applause.

Frank, who had been silently watching from afar, felt something in his chest sink.

_God fucking damnit!_

[ _Reset: 100._ ]

XxXxXxXxX

 

“Oh, thanks,” Gerard said for what felt like the trillionth time. He smiled sheepishly at all the girls—they had introduced themselves as Christa, Hayley, Chantal, and Alicia—and scratched the back of his head. He had been sitting in one of the booths, trying to clear his head, and then people…well, they just started _talking to him_! That never happened, and it was starting to freak him out a bit. He hoped desperately that Mikey would rescue him soon, but since Mikey was nowhere to be found, Gerard didn’t think that was going to happen.

“So,” one of the girls (Gerard thought it was Alicia) smiled at him, “You live in the city right?”

“Oh, right outside the city. I don’t think I could live in the city.” And for some reason they found that funny, or cute, or something.

“And do you live alone?”

“No! No, I couldn’t do that. I live with my brother Mikey. He’s here…but I don’t know where.” Gerard once again scanned the area for his brother and came up with nothing.

“You have a brother?” Alicia asked, suddenly sounding ten times more interested than she was before (if that was even possible).

“Yeah, he’s 19.” Gerard felt so relieved to not be talking about him. It was so much easier to say things about Mikey than it was to say things about him, which seems odd because he’s _not_ Mikey.

“Really?” Alicia asked, smiling brightly.

“Mhm.” Gerard bit his bottom lip and looked around nervously.

“What about you?” Another girl, Hayley, asked.

“Oh, I’m 22.”

“I’m 22! So is Frank.”

“Who?”

They all looked at him like was speaking a different language. “You don’t know Frank?” Hayley asked, sounding just as confused as she looked.

“Uh, no?” They were making him so nervous that he was second guessing his own answers. And for some reason, he felt like he didn’t really want to know who Frank was. He sounded like an asshole.

[ **Wow. Thanks.** ]

[ **Well, you kinda were, babe.** ]

[ **We don’t like to talk about that.** ]

[ **Thank you, Mikey!** ]

“Well, you _need_ to meet Frank.” And at that very moment he was saved; Mikey, Lyndzey, Ray, Jams and Bob were walking their way.

“C’mon, guys,” Lyndzey said, shooing the girls away. “Gerard doesn’t need to be bombarded with questions quite yet.” They all looked disappointed, but they decided to agree and leave anyways, but not before Gerard remembered.

“Alicia,” he called. She turned around, looking surprised, and pointed to herself. Gerard nodded and she walked back over, pushing her hair behind her ear. Gerard pointed to the boy who had decided to sit opposite himself, “ _That_ is my brother Mikey. Mikey this is Alicia.” Mikey’s face, which had previously donned a confused looked, was transformed into a look of shock. He just couldn’t handle himself, and Gerard thought that was scary.

Alicia looked just as shocked as Mikey was, but didn’t hesitate to shake his hand when he offered it to her. “Nice to meet you.” Mikey murmured, smiling just enough to be considered a smile.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Alicia said smiling brightly. _Uh oh_ , Gerard thought. Mikey was so done for, he was absolutely sure of it. Mikey didn’t just _smile_ at people; not even pretty girls like Alicia. She looked like she was about to say something else, but then her friends called to her, she said goodbye to everyone, smiled at Mikey one last time, and left.

“Don’t.” Mikey said the second Alicia was gone; he was psychic. He really was.

“But I have to,” Gerard said matter-of-factly. “It’s not every day that you show emotion. Or smile. Or have more than one facial expression.”

“Shut up,” he tried to, but he couldn’t even scowl properly. He was in love. _Ah_ , Gerard thought, smiling at Mikey, _Love at first sight_. That was something Gerard didn’t believe in; not even after seeing it happen before his very eyes.

“So Frank’s in his trailer right now, complaining about you,” Bob said to Gerard, not looking surprised in the least. However, Gerard was really starting to get curious, “Who is this Frank person I keep hearing about?” He asked, his brows furrowing together. “And why doesn’t he like me? Everyone likes me.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” Mikey said gesturing towards Gerard. “I don’t think we’ve ever met someone that didn’t like Gerard. Me on the other hand?” He smirked as if remembering some horribly hilarious situation in which Gerard has had to apologize for Mikey’s incessantly obnoxious behaviour.

“Frank runs this whole place,” Lyndzey said waving her hand, gesturing to the whole room. “He tells me he doesn’t like you because you’re new, and he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t trust you.” She rolled her eyes, “It’s fucking insane. You’re, like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”

Gerard smiled at her, but it was a sad smile, and he didn’t say anything.

“Wanna know why _I_ think Frank doesn’t like Gerard?” Bob asked, sounding as if he really didn’t care if they wanted to know or not. “It’s because everyone likes you.”

“Are you serious?” Jams asked, laughing incredulously. “That’s so fucking selfish. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“I’m so confused.” Gerard said, putting his head in his hands, “I wasn’t actually serious when I said that everyone liked me.” He sounded miserable.

“I even told Frank that at some point, maybe soon if he doesn’t already, he _will_ like you. Maybe not everyone likes you, but _nobody_ doesn’t.”

“No wonder he doesn’t like me,” Gerard mumbled from behind his hands. A few seconds later he added, “Mikey, that was a poorly worded sentence.”

Mikey just laughed.


	9. One Hour Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At least think about it, okay?” He nodded just enough for her to feel it, and she backed away.
> 
> “Bye guys!” She said, smiling and waving. “I’ll miss you!”
> 
> Gerard turned his head and smiled, just a tiny bit. “I’ll miss you too. Bye Ray. Bye Jams.” Then he rolled up the window, and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly, and Mikey drove away.

** ONE HOUR LATER **

“C’mon.” Ray begged, tugging on Gerard’s arm. “Will you _please_ stay? We can prove to Frank how stupid he is for not liking you! You still haven’t met everyone yet! Besides, Patrick really likes you guys.” Now _that_ was almost a good deal; Patrick was a really cool dude and Gerard wouldn’t mind staying if it meant that he got to hang out with Patrick all the time.

However, he couldn’t spend all of his time with _one_ person. He’d get sick of them. He already spends all of his time with Mikey and can barely stand him—even with all of that brotherly love. “Sorry Ray,” Gerard said as he slid into the passenger’s seat of their car. “You’re all super cool, but I just don’t know if I could do that.”

“Gerard you’re such a douche,” Mikey said, getting in the car. “Just suck it up. Not everyone you meet is going to try and hurt you.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think that was going to happen the first time either and look where we are now!” He really didn’t want to be having this conversation in front of Lyndzey and Ray and Jamia who were all standing outside of the car, exchanging confused looks.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mikey said sarcastically, “Yeah, look where we are now! The 21st century; ooo, that’s _so_ bad.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you Michael James Way. Now start the fucking car because we’re going home, and _that’s final_.” Jamia felt her heart clench; when Gerard was angry enough to tell Mikey what to do and be completely serious about it? He was fucking pissed off as hell, and that was _never_ a good thing.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey said, actually sounding scared and terribly sorry; even he knew when it was and was not okay to fuck with Gerard in front of other people.

“Whatever,” Gerard said, stormily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking into his lap. Cautiously, Lyndzey walked towards the open window and reached inside. She carefully smoothed down Gerard’s hair, ignoring his flinch, and leaned forwards to kiss the top of his head. She felt his shoulders relax and softly told him, “At least think about it, okay?”  He nodded just enough for her to feel it, and she backed away.

“Bye guys!” She said, smiling and waving. “I’ll miss you!”

Gerard turned his head and smiled, just a tiny bit. “I’ll miss you too. Bye Ray. Bye Jams.” Then he rolled up the window, and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly, and Mikey drove away.

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

“I’m _sorry_!” Mikey said _again_. Gerard just kept pacing. Back and forth, back and forth; he couldn’t sit still. He was too antsy.

“I just _don’t_ get it,” Gerard said. “I honestly don’t.”

“I don’t know why I said it, _I’m_ _sorry_.”

Gerard stopped. He didn’t look at Mikey; just stared at the ground. “So am I.” Mikey hated it when Gerard got like this. He was nearly impossible to deal with, he was on edge all the time, the smallest things made him angry, and he was extremely unpredictable.

“Why?” Mikey asked.

“What do you mean?” Gerard still didn’t look at him.

“Why don’t you want to leave? Why are you still so angry about it?” He honestly knew better than to ask those questions, but he couldn’t help it.

“If you were me…if you had been there,” he stopped and shook his head. “Trust me. You’d still be angry, too.” But the thing was, Mikey _didn’t_ know what it had been like. He hadn’t been there. There was nothing in his memory that could constitute the bitter and resentful attitude that Gerard felt towards the entire human race.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not you, okay?” Mikey bit his bottom lip; one of the many fucking stupid habits that he had inherited from Gerard. “You still didn’t answer. Why don’t you want to leave?”

This time he did look at Mikey, “Let’s not leave.”

“Leave what?” Mikey was thoroughly confused.

“Our…y’know…” he gestured around the living room, looking at the depressing and drab curtains, the ancient television, the broken coffee table, the several lamps that only had broken or flickering light bulbs, and the moth-eaten couches and chairs.

“No, I don’t know.” Mikey said, starting to lose his patience. “Maybe you should just tell me.”

Gerard looked like he wanted to say something, but just couldn’t. He looked away, “We can’t just get up and leave our lives.”

“Well, why not? There is literally nothing stopping you.”

“Except me.”

“That’s stupid. Shut up.”

“I’m not a good enough excuse for me not to leave?”

Mikey laughed sarcastically, “No. You’re not.”

“And why is that?” Gerard sat down in one of the old chairs and coughed at all the dust that was emitted.

“Because, believe it or not, it’s not just you that lives in this house.” And Gerard looked sad; he never wanted to be that kind of brother. The kind that made everything about him, the kind that never really cared about anything aside from his own feelings.

“Mikey, I’m sorry. It’s just…sometimes…” Mikey cut him off.

“I know.” He said, “It’s okay. But seriously; think about it.”

“There’s not much to think about.” Mikey looked up at Gerard. His eyebrows were drawn together in worried concentration.

“No work. You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. You can write all the music you want, sleep all day, make new friends…friends who are like us.” Mikey paused, “Patrick will be there. And, yeah, so will Gabe but he promised to stop calling you ‘Gee’ and he’s really not a bad kid.”

“That does sound nice,” Gerard said, smiling slightly. “But they travel…and this house…it’s not great but it means a lot to me. And my room—”

“I’ll see what I can do. I know how much your art means to you.”

Gerard beamed at his brother, “I know we fight a lot, and you’re kind of an asshole, but most of the time, I really do love you.”

“I know.” Mikey smiled back.

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

Ugh, if there was one thing that Gerard Way did _not_ want to have to go do after spending the night away from his house, it’s to go to work. But after some serious consideration, and a few mental break downs, Gerard wasn’t too upset about it, because this was the last time he’d be going into work. It was already quieter inside; both Gabe and Jams had quit earlier in the week and were out with The Parade to find new jobs.

“Gerard!” Not even that bothered him anymore.

“Hi, Ryan,” Gerard said, giving him a smile. Ryan looked taken aback, and his face melted into a flurry of concern.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Gerard just laughed, “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong!” But, clearly, Ryan didn’t believe him. See, the thing about Ryan? Well…he’s different. Not _bad_ different, but definitely not _good_ different. He was just different. Ryan took everything in a metaphorical manner, he talked about things like having visions, and he never let anyone feel sad; it was his number one rule.

“Okay, well,” Ryan hesitated, “You’re just…it’s just that—well, you look _happy_ , and no offense, but that doesn’t happen a lot.” He looked a bit scared, like he was afraid that Gerard would yell at him, but Gerard just frowned.

Then he looked at Ryan and said, “Yeah, that doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Ryan just shook his head sadly, almost in a pitiful manner. “I’d like to inform you that I am happy today because I am quitting my job.”

Ryan didn’t look shocked at all, he was happy. He was the kind of person who was happy when everyone else was happy. “It’s about time; you look miserable every time you come in here. I swear, if it wasn’t for the coffee you’d have been outta here a _long_ time ago.”

And Gerard didn’t even question his wisdom, “Spot on, Ry.” Then he pat Ryan on the head and walked into the break room where every employee in sight looked just the same as Ryan did; surprised. Gerard Way was in a pleasant mood? Someone call the Ghostbusters, because this shit is really fucking weird.

[ **I don’t appreciate that reference.** ]

[ **Get over yourself.** ]

[ **I thought it was funny!** ]

[ ** _Thank_ _you,_ Ryland!** ]

He walked to the other side of the room, opened another door, and went into the manager only/Ryan-likes-to-sleep room. He walked up to the giant wipe-board with the work schedule, picked up the eraser, and cleared away his name. He then remembered that he _was_ going to ask Ryan if he wanted the job, but he was too lazy to go and find him again, so he didn’t fill in anything where his name used to be.

“Quitting?” He heard from behind him. He turned around in shock, but soon calmed down to see that it was only Alex. Gerard smiled at Alex who, in turn, smiled back. Alex was actually Gerard’s friend; they didn’t talk much, but they just had this weird unspoken bond and were almost protective of each other.

[ **Fangs gotta stick together, bro.** ]

[ **Hells yeah.** ]

“Yeah,” and all the drawbacks of quitting started to creep into his mind. There were actually people here who were important to Gerard in some strange way. Like Alex and Ryan? Yeah, they actually mattered.

“Where you going?” Alex asked casually. Those things always shocked Gerard. Alex just seemed to _know_ things. It was like a gift.

Gerard sighed thoughtfully, “I have no idea.”

“Well when you get there, make sure you call me.” Then he smiled and turned to walk away. Suddenly, and quite strangely, Gerard realized that something about Alex really reminded him of Jack. They both had crazy awesome hair, and dressed really well. They both smelled pretty good, they were both funny, and after thinking of all of these things that were the same in Alex and Jack, Gerard decided something pretty impulsive, and pretty damn important.

“Do you wanna just come?” Gerard called after him.

“Honestly never thought you’d ask bro.” Gerard saw that Alex had already started to take off his Starbucks uniform before he’d even been asked to quit.  

But Gerard was surprised, “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Alex nodded.

“There’s nothing keeping you here? There’s no _one_ keeping you here?”

“I got nothing and nobody, and that’s alright with me.” Gerard nodded in agreement. Alex was a pretty bitchin’ guy, and Gerard didn’t feel weird asking him to come along at all. It felt natural to have Alex around.

“Well let’s get the fuck outta here.” Gerard said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. Alex just jerked his head towards the door. Most people would think that mean ‘ _Let’s go!_ ’ but Gerard knew a bit better than that, and when he looked at the door he saw what Alex meant. “Stop trying to eavesdrop, Ryan. Get out here.”

Ryan came around the corner, smiling sheepishly. “Don’t leave me, guys. You’re my only friends here; you make things fun.” He just looked so _sad_! Alex and Gerard exchanged glances and then looked at Ryan and said, at the same time, “You could have just asked to come along.” Ryan’s face lit up, and he untied his apron, throwing it carelessly on the desk in the corner of the room.

“You guys are really fucking awesome.” Ryan said as they were leaving.

Gerard and Alex fist-bumped, and said in unison, “We know.”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

“So they’re both coming?” Mikey asked slowly, still trying to understand what the fuck was going on. When Gerard came home, Mikey hadn’t been expecting him to bring along other people; Gerard didn’t like people, so why did he want to bring them along with them?

“Yep.” Gerard nodded once.

“…Why?”

“Well, I figured that if I was going to completely leave my old life behind, I wanted to take a few things with me to make me feel more at home.” That was a damn good answer too, and Mikey knew it. It also made sense, _especially_ for someone like Gerard.

“Okay,” Mikey still sounded a bit confused. He turned towards Alex and Ryan who were sitting on the couch, seemingly unfazed by their broken down house. “I don’t know you,” he said, pointing to Alex.

“I’m Alex,” he said at the same time Gerard had said, “That’s Alex.” If Mikey could look more confused than he already was, now was the time for that to happen.

“Do they do that a lot?” He asked Ryan.

“Yes,” Ryan said, smiling brightly. Mikey examined them both again; something about them was…off. They weren’t who they were supposed to be, but they weren’t anyone else either. They were out of place; from a different world almost.

“Hey, Gerard?” Mikey called to Gerard who had gone into the kitchen to make coffee. He appeared a few seconds later, holding a huge steaming cup, and gave Mikey a questioning face. “You do know that they’re not living, right?” Both Ryan and Alex sputtered, and Gerard seemed to choke on nothing but air. That was a very bold claim for Mikey to make, and it was a bit weird to be outted by another person, but that was what had just happened.

Alex cleared his throat, “I don’t know—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Mikey’s voice was flat, “Don’t even try and pretend you’re alive. I know a living breathing person when I see one.” Alex and Ryan exchanged scared glances, but then realized that they were exchanging scared glances. They only would have done that if they knew that Mikey was telling the truth, and it dawned on them that everyone in that room was not a living breathing person.

“Mikey, you can’t just out people like that.” Gerard sounded quite agitated, but at this point Mikey knew he had calmed down enough for it to be okay to be an asshole again.

“I do what I want.” Mikey shrugged.

“So…” Ryan said after a long silence.

“You guys really aren’t alive?” Gerard asked.

“Nah,” Alex said, shaking his head. “I’ve been part of the living dead for about two hundred years now? Two hundred and fifty? I don’t know.”

Gerard’s face turned into the kind of face that people use when they see small children doing adorable things, “Oh my God you’re like a baby!”

“What?”

“Oh, I should probably explain.”

“That would be nice,” Ryan said, nodding nervously.

“I’m about one thousand, nine hundred and seventy five years old,” he said matter-of-factly, “Well, that’s to say I think I am. I keep having these memory relapses where I can’t remember how old I am and when I was born and when I was turned. But if my current memories serve me right, then yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ old.” Alex’s face was extremely shocked, and Ryan looked like he was going to pass out.

“How old are you?” Gerard asked Ryan, trying to stay casual.

“I’m really only twenty-one,” he said quietly. “I’m not like you guys. I mean, yeah, I’m not, like, _human_ or whatever, but I was born twenty-one years ago. I can be whatever age I want, though.”

“Wait,” Mikey said in complete and utter surprise, “Lemme get this straight. Me, Alex, Gerard…we’re all vampires. You’re just magical?”

“I’m a sooth-sayer.”

They all just looked at him like he was speaking a different language. He sighed, and his shoulders dropped, “Y’know…fortune teller, palm-reader, magician, psychic. That kind of shit.”

Gerard smiled like a little kid watching a fireworks show. “Cool,” he said.

“Mikey,” Alex said, “How long have you been, y’know…” he made a few gestures with his hands as if to signify that Mikey should know what he’s talking about.

Which he did.

“Nearly as long as Gerard, I would imagine. He is my brother after all.” Alex just nodded and then looked at them all expectantly. Mikey made his classic ‘Well-Don’t-Look-At-Me’ face which Ryan then copied perfectly. That only left Gerard.

“Me being the oldest does not constitute me being in charge,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes and the chugging the rest of his coffee.

“Uh, fuck yes it does,” Alex said like it was a fact of life.

[ **It’s true. Everyone knows it’s true.** ]

[ **Yes, but I’m not the oldest anymore.** ]

[ **Oh my God, I was born one year before you, shut up.** ]

[ **Frank, you were _made_ one year before me.**]

“I like him,” Mikey pointed to Alex and looked at Gerard.

“Who doesn’t?” Gerard said.

“But seriously,” Ryan said. “What’s the plan here?” That was the question of the hour: What the fuck do we do now? Nobody really had the answer, nobody really wanted to do much at that point in time. Gerard figured that the smart thing to do was to pack everything up, call Jams, talk to Lyndzey (who would talk to Frank for them), and then leave. He told Alex, Ryan, and Mikey just as much and they all agreed.

“Um, can we stop at my house?” Alex asked. “I got, like, clothes and shit that I should probably bring.” Ryan said he needed a few things too, and then Alex teased him about needing his ‘crystal ball’—to which Ryan just said “Shut up…it’s actually diamond; they get better reception.”

“Well,” Gerard said fifteen minutes later (after he had packed everything up). “It’s all you Mikes.” Mikey swiped the phone off the table and before he went outside he turned to Gerard and asked, “Anything?”

Gerard pursed his lips for a second before saying, “Can you ask for Jack?”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

“Hey!” Jack smiled as Mikey and Gerard got out of the car. “Decided to come back?” He laughed lightheartedly as Gerard waved at him. “There any specific reason that you asked for me?” Gerard smiled at him slyly, and Jack wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take that look, but he figured that Gerard was a good guy so it couldn’t be that bad.

“No _real_ reason. Just—” but Gerard was cut off.

“Hey, Gerard?” Alex called, getting out of the car (more like falling out of the car).  “Is there an actual reason as to why there’s a piece of pizza stuck under your—” but when he looked up, he stopped talking. His face went from severely confused to completely blank in a matter of negative .5 seconds.

“Alex! Come over here!” It seemed to take him a while to process what Gerard had said to him, but eventually Alex slowly walked over to them and smiled shyly. _Whoa_ , Gerard thought, _That is not an Alex thing to do_. For him to look shy? This was working out way better than he had planned.

“Jack,” Gerard gestured to Jack. “Alex,” then he gestured to Alex. They silently shook hands, and Gerard just watched with interest. He had expected that it would be Jack who would speak first, but was proven wrong when they examined each other, smiled, and then said, “Nice hair.” at the same exact time.

Mikey, who had been helping Ryan get out of the car (because he was incapable of doing that for some odd reason), walked past the three of them and said, “He’s a vampire too,” before continuing on to the bar, Ryan in tow.

Alex and Jack looked confused but then Gerard said, “I think he was talking to both of you.” They smiled again and stood there for a second before Gerard got the hint and said, “I’m just gonna…” then followed Mikey. From behind, he could hear Jack and Alex get into a really strong conversation about the importance of hair care. He smiled to himself before thinking; _I’m like a dating service_.

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

“Gerard!” Jamia ran as fast as she could and launched herself at Gerard who was extremely prepared and just spun her in a circle before setting her down. “So are you guys staying?” Her smile was hopeful.

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders casually. Her face fell, “I’m just kidding,” he laughed. She punched him and told him how mean he was to which he told her that it was his job to be an asshole.

“Well where are you guys staying?”

“I have no idea.”

“I can tell you!” Lyndzey walked up to them with a bright smile on her face. She hugged Gerard, which surprised him, but he hugged her back anyways. Jamia seemed pleasantly surprised and nodded in approval. “Okay, so I have some good news and some bad news.”

“All news is bad news,” Gerard said, looking skeptical.

“Then I’ll just give you the good news first,” Lyndzey said, seemingly unfazed by his pessimism. “Both Alex and Ryan have found people to stay with until we can get you guys some new trailers. However, we were stuck on where to put you and Mikey, so we switched a few things around.”

“I don’t want anyone to move just because of us!” Gerard said, looking very worried. “We can come back later.”

“No, it’s no big deal!” Lyndzey promised him, trying to sound soothing, sensing that he was on the brink of a panic attack. “I’ll explain everything. C’mon.” She gestured for them to follow her and they moved to a booth on the side of the room. Lyndzey set down a sheet of paper titled ‘Room Assignments’. “Everyone is actually really grateful that you guys are around because now they have an excuse to move.”

“You’re sure?” Gerard wasn’t really sure that he believed her, even if she was telling the truth. Things like this were actually kind of a big deal.

“I’m positive,” she smiled at him, and then at Jams. Then her face grew hesitant, “So I was telling you that there was some bad news…”

“All news—”

“Yeah, I know,” Lyndzey rolled her eyes, “All news is bad news. But this is, like, some _really_ bad news.”

“Oh my God just tell me.” Gerard was becoming very anxious and he didn’t know if he could stand her making such a big deal out of something he didn’t even know about.

“Well…the way things are set up now,” she paused, “I said that Jams, Alex, Mikey, and Ryan had places to stay, and that meant rearranging all of the rooms. However, that only left one other person here without a roommate and we just _had_ to put you with him because there is really no one else to put you with.” She watched Gerard’s face melt into understanding, and grimaced at how pale he had turned. Jams put her arm around Gerard and kissed the side of his head, rubbing his head soothingly.

“I told you that was a bad idea,” she said to Lyndzey.

“If it makes you feel any better, Frank hates this more than you do?” Lyndzey was really bad at this whole trying to make people feel better thing.

[ **I was nervous!** ]

[ ** _You_ were nervous?!**]

[ **I thought you were going to hate me forever!** ]

[ **I still kinda do.** ]

[ **Feelin’ the love.** ]

[ **Sorry Frank.** ]

“It doesn’t.” Gerard mumbled.

Jams sighed, “Why don’t you stay with Gerard and I’ll stay with Frank?”

“No!” Gerard said, turning to Jamia. His eyes were wide with panic, but there was something else there—something like concern. “You should stay with Lyndzey.” Then he turned and smiled warily at Lyndzey. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Lyndzey and Jamia asked him.

His face had lost most of its worry, and was just tentative now, “No.”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** ONE HOUR LATER **

Gerard and Lyndzey stood outside the door, staring at it with fear. Gerard had made the smart suggestion of _not_ actually putting his stuff in the trailer while Frank might be in there. So they were just standing there, both extremely nervous about what the fuck was about to happen. The only good thing that might come out of this is Frank actually eventually not hating Gerard…other than that, they were a bit screwed.

“I’m not going to even bother to ask if you’re ready,” Lyndzey said, “Because I know you’re not.”

“Yeah….you’re right. I’m not.”

“Let’s get this over with,” she sighed. She also didn’t bother to knock on the door, because she figured that if Frank was really as mad about this as she thought he was, he wasn’t going to answer the fucking door when she knocked on it. However, she did go in first to make sure that he wasn’t, like, taking his clothes off or anything. When she finally gestured for Gerard to follow her, her face was irritated.

Gerard stepped inside, and he saw… Nothing. He saw absolutely nothing. He gave her a questioning look, and she just rolled her eyes. “When he’s angry enough he just kinda…disappears.”

“Everything you’re saying to me makes no sense,” Gerard told her. There was a sudden rush of wind, even though they were inside, the door was closed, and there were no windows open.

“He’s still _here_ ,” she said. “He just has the tendency to turn invisible when he’s really upset over something.” Her face was sad, “I’ve only seen this happen once. I’m really sorry, Gerard.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said like it should be this obvious thing. “I’m new, y’know? I shouldn’t even expect for him to really ever like me. Well, at least not until I’m not living with him.” There was another gust of wind, but Gerard was completely unfazed by it.

“You’re taking this really well,” Lyndzey said with a wary smile.

“With how long I’ve been alive? I’m kind of an expert on weird.” He smiled slightly but didn’t say anything else.

“How long you’ve been alive?”

“Over a thousand years.” Yet another gush of wind rolled through, much stronger than the last two, but Gerard still was utterly unworried by it.

“If there’s one thing I can promise you,” she said, “He’ll only really hate you until the end of October. He’s kinda got this yearly Jekyll and Hyde thing going on.” Gerard just nodded, looking around the trailer; it was actually really big. It had a crap ton of band posters on the walls, it was dark, there was a shitload of CD’s and comic books littering the floor. He smiled to himself. This was really not going to be as bad as he thought it would.

“Have you ever seen Frank?” Lyndzey asked suddenly.

“Hm?” He asked after having his attention pulled away from the comic books. “Oh, yeah, no. Never seen the guy.” Lyndzey plopped down on the bed and gestured for him to sit down next to her, and he followed suit. “You’ll be lucky if you ever do,” Lyndzey said. “At least while you’re living with him. I can’t say much about after that.”

Gerard smiled brightly and pointed to something on the ground, “Anyone who likes Doom Patrol is a good guy in my book.” And then they dove into a conversation about comic books, superheroes, and super villains, and after a few minutes, Gerard forgot that someone else was even there. Lyndzey then very casually drew the conversation in a different direction.

“So, Gerard,” she smiled at him, “What was your life like before this?”

“Mmm,” he scrunched up his nose. “Kinda boring. I went to work in fear of someone talking to me about three times a week. I hated grocery shopping. It was the worst; and I know there’s a reason for that, but I can’t remember it.”

“You can’t remember why you hate grocery shopping?” She laughed.

“Well, yeah, pretty much!” He laughed too, “I actually have that problem a lot. I have memory lapses. There are parts of my life missing, and I just can’t ever remember what they are. I can kinda remember what it felt like, but I can’t actually remember specific events. All I know is that I feel this unprecedented fear whenever I’m in a grocery store parking lot.” He shrugged, but Lyndzey could tell it was really bothering him to be talking about this.

However, she was just really curious. “Is there anything else that makes you uncomfortable? Like, anything you can’t explain?”

“Well…” he didn’t really want to say anything, but Lyndzey was a nice person and a good friend, so why not? “Relationships.”

“Relationships?”

He nodded sadly, “You know that vampires mate for life, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just…every time I even consider a relationship, I get sad. It’s like I lost someone really important to me, and I’ll never get over it. I know this sounds horribly cheesy, but I don’t know if I can ever really love again. It’s just in my nature.”

“Well how do you know you’re just not afraid of relationships?”

“I just know,” Gerard said. “I compare everyone to this imaginary person inside my head. I don’t remember exactly what they look like, but everything about them is there.”

“And what are these said features that you compare?”

“Everything, and that’s why it’s so weird. Every little thing. I try to picture myself with someone else and this blurry figure just replaces them every single time. All these stupid little features,” Lyndzey was almost starting to regret asking, because she could see how honestly upset he was getting. “It’s not just physical features either. It’s this never ending list of criteria that people have to meet, or it’s just not the same.”

“Aw, I’m so sorry Gee.” He cringed at the name. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Is that…”

“Yeah…” Gerard said. “It’s – it’s fine.”

“No it’s not,” she was rubbing his back soothingly. “I’m sorry for getting onto this topic.”

“I never really get to talk about it.”

“Do you want to?” He didn’t reply. “Tell me about them. This ‘never ending list of criteria’. What is it?”  He smiled slightly.

“Well, he smoked. I knew that for sure. He likes coffee almost as much as I do.”

“ _He_?” Lyndzey smiled knowingly.

“Of course,” Gerard smiled but he rolled his eyes. “He liked all the same bands and shit, y’know? Liked the same horror movies, _hated_ Adam West as Batman,” Gerard made a face, and Lyndzey laughed. “His eyes…” Gerard paused. “They were – they were beautiful.”

“Are there any other physical attributes?”

“His skin,” he was trying so hard to remember. “Tattoos. Lots of tattoos.” Lyndzey’s hand hesitated over his back, but he barely noticed. “He was just…different. And he was mine. You never really get those things back, y’know?”

“No,” Lyndzey said. “I don’t.”

Gerard smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” 


	10. The Epitome of Vampire Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my God. That’s horrible! Shouldn’t someone go talk to him?”
> 
> “No!” Jamia and Mikey exclaimed at the same time. “No…we have to let him deal with it.” Mikey said, “Nobody can help him now.”

** THAT NIGHT (9:15 PM) **

 

“Hey,” Mikey said, nodding to Lyndzey. “Where’s Gerard?”

“He decided to stay in,” she slid into the booth, settling down next to Jams. “He was a bit sad when I left him.” Mikey wasn’t usually the kind of person to really care about that shit, but then again, this _was_ Gerard.

“What happened?” His voice wasn’t concerned, but the fact that he had even asked at all was kind of a big deal.

“We were talking,” Lyndzey shrugged. “He told me about what his life was before he came here; he hated work, and he hated grocery shopping.” Mikey groaned, and put his head in his hands. Jams stiffened, Lyndzey held her breath, and Ray (who was sitting next to Mikey) looked confused.

“What?” Ray asked.

“Did you guys talk about, y’know…?” Even Mikey looked uncomfortable to be talking about it. Lyndzey nodded and Mikey’s face fell; this was _not_ good. “Why?!”

“He said he wanted to talk about it! Why is it such a big deal? Gerard’s a big-boy, he can handle himself!” Lyndzey started to feel really bad about what had happened, and was worried about what she had evoked in Gerard.

“No,” Jamia said, “He really can’t.”

“Everyone knows that vampires mate for life.” Mikey groaned. “Getting on that topic…it’s not good. I have to do everything in my power to keep him from talking about that specific subject.”

“But why?”

“Every species has a purpose on earth, and this sounds really weird, but vampires were created to solidify eternal love. When a vampire loses the motherfucking love of their life…” he just took a deep breath and shook his head, looking away. Lyndzey could swear she saw tears in his eyes. She looked at Jamia hopelessly.

“Most vampires don’t live through it,” she told Lyndzey.

“Really?” Lyndzey sounded devastated.

“A few of them die from a broken heart,” Mikey said flatly. “Most of them just kill themselves. I don’t know how he does it…maybe vampires are just weak nowadays.” Lyndzey wasn’t sure what that meant, but she didn’t want to have to ask; she felt she’d done enough damage.

Luckily, Ray hadn’t done any damage at all. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never met another vampire as old as he is. We may not remember his earlier days, or certain parts of his life, but one thing I know for sure is that he fell in love a _long_ time ago. If he’s lived this long…” Ray just nodded, and didn’t say anything else. Lyndzey started to feel sick. “Are you telling me that Gerard has lived for nearly 1,000 years without love?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Oh my God. That’s horrible! Shouldn’t someone go talk to him?”

“No!” Jamia and Mikey exclaimed at the same time. “No…we have to let him deal with it.” Mikey said, “Nobody can help him now.”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** 9:15 – GERARD **

 

After talking with Lyndzey, Gerard had left the trailer to grab his sketchpad from their car. He wasn’t sure if Frank was still around when he got back, but he really didn’t care either way. He started to draw something rotting and gross, and he wasn’t even sure what it was, but after a while he _really_ had to go to the bathroom. He wasn’t too upset by that because he knew that meant he got to go to that fancy-ass bathroom and he was actually pretty excited.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been that excited to take a piss.

It was a slow and solemn walk to the bathroom; he was still sad, but he was starting to get over it. He reached the building, went inside, and went to the nearest open door. He was surprised to find how sad he was to only be in there for a matter of two minutes, but on his way out of the building someone bumped into him. He _was_ going to apologize… ‘was’ being the key word there.

“Watch where you’re walking,” the other guy said in a huff, barely looking over his shoulder at a very offended Gerard. And since Gerard had been in a very sad _and_ vulnerable mood, he felt quite pleased to be able to finally get some anger out.

“Fuck off, douchebag.” He scoffed.

[ _99\. 98. 97._ ]

“S’not really my job, asshat,” the other guy spat as he turned to face Gerard.

Gerard was _about_ to say something, when he looked right into the face…of the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth. He was short—a good six inches shorter than Gerard—with longer, raven-coloured hair that was a windswept mess of perfection. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans, black high-tops, and a white t-shirt that said ‘FUCK’ in black sharpie. His arms were _completely_ covered in tattoos, he had a lip and nose ring, and his green eyes sparkled with rage.

Okay, _yes_ , he was fucking perfect in every physical way possible, but appearances were definitely not ever good enough to deter Gerard’s anger… even if they seriously were Jesus.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gerard said sarcastically, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. “Here, let me give you a new job: stay the fuck away from me.” _For many reasons_ , he added mentally.

[ _96\. 95. 94 […] 80._ ]

“That’s going to be kinda hard,” he sneered, “especially considering that we’re living together.” Even though that _definitely_ took Gerard by surprise, and he would eventually walk away only to find himself faced with the dilemma of sleeping in the same room as a beautiful cocksucking assface, Gerard didn’t hesitate even one second before replying.

“Then just do your best,” Gerard said, straightening his shoulders. “I’m sure you can do _that_ right? Or maybe you’ll just hide the entire fucking time like the goddamned self-conceited dick you are…you seem to be _very_ good at that.” Now _that_ seemed to take Frank by surprise, because he didn’t say anything after that.

[79. _[…] 50._ ]

Gerard just turned and walked away, almost feeing disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see Frank walk away. Gerard may be really fucking upset with Frank, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t mind staring at his ass when he walked away.

XxXxXxXxX

** FOUR DAYS LATER **

 

Nothing very eventful happened over the next four days; mainly Gerard and Mikey getting settled in, meeting everyone, and Gerard avoiding Frank while Mikey tried to work up the courage to _really_ talk to Alicia. Gerard found that he _definitely_ liked Patrick more than he originally did, and had a sneaking suspicion that Pete was in love with Patrick. If things worked out like they normally did, Pete and Patrick would be dating in a matter of days.

It’s not that Gerard _didn’t_ want to have to look at Frank at all…it’s just…

“I don’t want to have to look at him _at all_.” He’d told Lyndzey at breakfast. She just seemed amused. “I’m not joking. He’s an asshole.” Then he focused on drinking every last golden drop of his coffee but savoring it all because he was too lazy to get up and go get some more.

Mikey looked less amused than anyone, “Aside from the one time you bitched him out, which I still think you should apologize for,” Gerard rolled his eyes, “have you ever really spoken to the guy? He’s not that bad, Gerard.”

“You don’t have to live with him, Mikes.”

“Okay then explain. Explain to me how horrible it is to live with Frank.” And he sat there expectantly, but Gerard literally had nothing to say. It wasn’t bad living with Frank; no, not bad _at all_! It was just…

“He’s just…” and he made a weird hand gesture. “Y’know?”

“No?” Lyndzey said, shoving a Pop-Tart into her mouth. Gerard looked at Mikey in exasperation.

“So you’re trying to tell me that living with Frank is bad _just_ because he’s in the same room as you?” Well, it sounded a lot better in Gerard’s head.

“It sounded a lot better in my head,” Gerard shrugged and looked into his cup again, hoping it had magically refilled itself. However, when a shadow fell on him, he looked up to see who was standing there and felt his heart sink because _of course_ it would be Frank!

“Complaining about me again, Way?” Frank asked with an innocent smile.

[ _49._ ]

“Oh, what else would I be talking about?” Gerard replied with a smile that was just as sweet. “You’re just so fucking interesting.” Then he turned to Lyndzey, “Isn’t he just so interesting?”

If Frank was his normal self, Lyndzey would feel terrible to be agreeing with such a horrible thing to say, but she found that at this particular moment, it was just fucking hilarious. “Mhmm,” she said, “I certainly think so.”

[ _48\. 47. 46. 45._ ]

“Aw,” Frank said and scrunched up his shoulders in content contempt. “How sweet…well, don’t waste your breath. I wouldn’t want you to lose your voice or anything.” That stabbed right at Gerard’s heart (and you’ll know why in a minute.)

“What do you want, Iero?” Gerard asked flatly, dropping the whole “innocent” act. He really couldn’t fucking stand Frank being anywhere near him…except if they were in the same bed…then that might be okay.

[ _44\. 43. 42. 41. 40._ ]

Frank held out his hand, “Jamia told me to bring you coffee.” The words sounded almost painful as they came out of his mouth; he _really_ didn’t want to be talking to Gerard.

“Why couldn’t she just bring it to me herself?” He asked skeptically as he took the coffee from Frank.

“Because she’s talking to Brendon.”

“Oh,” the entire table said in understanding. Once you started talking to Brendon, you didn’t really get to stop until he released you. It was just one of those things that Brendon liked to do from time to time; annoy the fuck out of you.

“Well, you can leave now,” Gerard blew the steam off his coffee and looked away because he desperately didn’t want to get caught staring.

[ _39\. 38. 37. 36. 35._ ]

“Didn’t plan on sticking around,” Frank said, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Damn I fucking hate him,” Gerard said once he was out of ear shot. But neither Lyndzey nor Mikey said anything. They looked at each other knowingly and then they smirked at Gerard. “What?”

“Sure, Gerard,” Mikey said.

“ _What_?!”

“We _definitely_ believe that you hate Frank.” Lyndzey nodded not-reassuringly. Gerard didn’t want either of them to say anything along the lines of ‘Oh we know you like Frank!’ but then again…this _was_ Mikey.

“I do!” Gerard mumbled before he chugged half of the contents of his cup.

“Bro,” Mikey said, “If you’re going to convince us that you hate someone, don’t stare at them when they walk away.”

“ _You_ stare at people you hate!”

“I keep my eyes above the waist.” Mikey and Lyndzey laughed and Gerard made a frustrated noise.

“Shut the fuck up!” He exclaimed. “I don’t like him!”

“Okay, okay!” Lyndzey said. “New topic: are you excited for tonight?” And _this_ is why Gerard got really fuckin’ pissed off when Frank told him not to lose his voice. They had set everything up—spent hours and hours on practicing—and tonight was the night that Gerard would _finally_ sing in front of an actual crowd.

“No,” Gerard said like it should be obvious. “Why would you even ask that question?” Sometimes Gerard just got really impatient with the world and wanted all of them to either know exactly what the fuck was going on, or not ask him any questions ever. Today was one of those days.

“I just figured you might actually be excited instead of scared out of your wits.” Lyndzey shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine!”

XxXxXxXxX

 

** TEN HOURS LATER  **

 

Gerard was definitely _not_ fine. Not at all. Not even a little bit, and the exact reason? Well what else were all of the sources of Gerard’s problems nowadays? Obviously it had to be that gorgeous little midget who loved to do nothing but get on Gerard’s nerves. It was the one, the only: motherfucking _Frank Iero_.

“ _I’m going to fucking kill him_!” Gerard screamed quietly. “ _I will_ murder _that little midget_!” Jams stood in front of Gerard, looking rather dumbfounded.

“What the hell even happened?” She asked.

“ _Frank_ ,” he said. “ _That’s_ what happened!”

“Why are you talking so quietly?” She asked in a quieter voice, because she felt awkward to be talking normally when Gerard wasn’t…or couldn’t…or wouldn’t. Gerard just shook his head and leaned against the wall. They were in the bar, all alone, because Mikey, Alex, and Ryan had decided to tag along for the show and that meant everyone was gone.

“I don’t know what he did,” Gerard whispered, only half of his words coming out. “I don’t know, but that will _not_ stop me from punching him right in the mouth and stabbing him with a very sharp object.”

“Well,” Jams said, trying to think of something, _anything_ , to keep Gerard calm. “Did you talk a lot today?” Gerard shook his head miserably. “Maybe it wasn’t Frank. Maybe it was something you ate?” Gerard, who had been staring at the ground, looked up slowly, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. He turned his head to look at her, and she stared back, feeling quite scared.

“You…” Gerard said.

“Me?”

“ _You_!” He put his head in his hands, “How could I be so fucking stupid?!”

“What is going on? Please just tell me what I did.”

“It’s not what you _did_ , Jams. It’s what you _didn’t do_.” He sighed, “Did you tell Frank to give me coffee?” Jamia just nodded, still not getting what had happened. “Jams…” Gerard said looking at her like she was an idiot. “He put something in it.”

Her jaw dropped, a look of recognition finally crossing her face. “Oh my God…what an asshole!”

“That’s why I’m sayin’!” And Jamia was going to say something in reply but that was the exact moment that the doors opened, and everyone—the workers and the party-goers—started to file in, laughing and talking about how fucking awesome it was. Bob walked over to them and looked at Gerard expectantly, “So are we gonna do this or what?”

“Or what.” Gerard said flatly. “I’m so going to fucking kill him.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

Jamia and Gerard looked at him, “Frank.”

“What did he do?” Bob looked half cautious, half really pissed off.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gerard said. “I have to make an announcement…or attempt to make an announcement.” He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he climbed onto the stage and grabbed the microphone. Everyone had been waiting to hear him sing; this was literally why most of them were even here in the first place.

Not only was Gerard going to kill Frank, he was going to scatter his pieces across the universe, and then make Frank’s soul try and put himself back together again.

Everyone clapped and cheered when they saw Gerard, and he just waved back with a smile on his face. In his head he was thinking of different ways to murder someone and make it look like an accident. They all quieted down, and were giving him their full attention. In the back of the room, Gerard could see Frank laughing, and it ignited a fire in his stomach. He cleared his throat as best as he could and took a deep breath.

 _Here it goes_.

[ _36\. 37. 38. 39. 40._ ]

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice wasn’t as bad as it had been when he was talking to Jamia and Bob, but it was still significantly hoarser than it should have been. “Due to some extremely unforeseeable events…and a few motherfucking assholes,” he added tightly. He paused and looked at all their faces; a lot of them could tell where this was going, but the others just looked concerned. And then there was Frank who was still laughing. “I can’t sing,” he said plainly. “I think it might have something to do with the fact that there’s something really gross stuck in my throat,” and then he locked eyes with Frank, refusing to blink. Frank didn’t even stop laughing. “Yeah, it’s probably just something temporary…sorry for the inconvenience.”

[ _41\. 42. 43. 44. 45._ ]

Then Gerard dropped the mic and hopped off the stage. He carefully made his way through the crowd, feeling every glance burning through him. He walked straight up to Frank—who was still laughing and wiping tears from the corners of his eyes—and took a deep breath. Gerard reeled his fist back, and he didn’t even flinch at the sharp crack he felt under his hand as it connected with Frank’s face.

The crowd gave a collective gasp, and Frank keeled over in pain; blood flowed from his nose like it was a running tap, and splattered all over his shirt. “It’s just temporary,” Gerard hissed. “Sorry for the inconvenience.” Then he threw a wave over his shoulder, not bothering to turn back, and walked out the door, leaving it wide open. He walked into the pitch dark night; the only light was spilling out from the now noisy bar, and he hardly felt the harsh autumn air biting at his skin.

[ _44\. 43. 42. […] 10._ ]

XxXxXxXxX

 

** LITERALLY TWO MINUTES LATER **

 

Chaos…what had ensued after Gerard left was complete and utter chaos, but Gerard had his own problems to deal with. He swore at himself, feeling the familiar hot stinging feeling rise up behind his eyes. He would _not_ fucking cry. Not today, not tomorrow, not _ever_ , and especially not over _Frank_.

He stormed into his trailer and kicked his shoes off. He didn’t know how long it would take for someone to catch up with him and kick his ass, but he honestly didn’t care anymore. This was the worst mistake he’d ever made in his entire life, and that’s saying something.

Turns out he only had to wait a few more seconds because _that_ was the moment that a very pissed-the-fuck-off Frank Iero burst through the door and stared at him with a murderous rage. Not even a second later, Mikey, Lyndzey, and Jamia spilled into the trailer, Bob following slowly behind. He closed the door and just stood there stoically. Lyndzey, who was afraid of what Frank might do, quickly grabbed Frank and steered him to his bed.

“What the fuck, Gerard?!” Mikey asked, looking truly upset. _Uh oh_.

“What?” Gerard asked defensively.

“You can’t just fucking punch people, okay? That’s not how the world works.” He had regretted saying it the second it had come out of his mouth.

“I’ve been a part of this world for almost two thousand years now. I’m pretty sure I know how it works.” Gerard’s face was dark, and Jamia was actually starting to feel scared.

“I’m sorry, I know you know, it’s just…” and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, Mikey,” Jamia said warily. “Considering the number of times that Gerard said he was gonna kill Frank…this isn’t bad at all. I actually kinda think he deserved it.” Mikey stared at her incredulously, Lyndzey kept rummaging around to find Frank a new shirt and a towel, Frank sat there, glowering at Gerard, Bob watched with interest, Jamia shrugged, and Gerard swallowed hard.

“What…” Mikey took a deep breath. “What even happened?”

“What happened?” Gerard asked, starting to get worked up again. “What happened is that that little _shit_ over there fucking put something in my coffee that fucked with my voice.” Gerard stared back at Frank, suddenly becoming the more terrifyingly angry one.

[ _9\. 8._ ]

“Are you guys good here?” Bob asked, looking down at his phone. “Ray needs help keeping order back at the bar.” Jamia nodded at Bob, smiled sadly, and thanked him before shutting the door behind him.

“I should probably get going too,” Lyndzey said, staring at her watch. Lyndzey stood up, kissed Frank’s head, turned to Gerard, smiled at him to show she forgave him, and then rushed out the door. Jamia looked a bit distressed, and then Mikey nodded for her to follow Lyndzey, for which she looked extremely grateful. Frank was sitting on his bed wearing nothing but skinny jeans, and Gerard felt his breath hitch in his throat; damn he was fucking _beautiful_. There were stains of red across his pale chest, down his neck, and on his face, which had one long bruise across his nose, and his hair was fucking pushed everywhere, streaks of blood across his cheek. Gerard was a pretty morbid person, _and_ a vampire, so Frank was literally Gerard’s epitome of porn.

He honestly didn’t mean to (especially with Mikey there), but somewhere in the back of Gerard’s throat came a low growl that he was pretty sure only Mikey could hear. Mikey looked at him in shock, “ _Gerard_!” He exclaimed.

Gerard looked at Mikey angrily, “Shut up, Mikey!”

Mikey’s face turned from shocked to smug, and he folded his arms over his chest. “What did I tell you?”

“This is _really_ not the time to be having this conversation.” Mikey was about to take a step forward when Gerard stopped him, “Mikey, no!” He froze, and looked at Gerard skeptically.

“What?” He asked. Gerard’s face flushed, and he looked at a very confused still pretty pissed off Frank, and then at Mikey. “Gerard…” Mikey said, “ _What_?”

“Well…” Gerard started, hating himself for his tomato-coloured face. “When you step _right_ there, the floorboard creaks, and it shutters all the way up the wall,” Gerard pointed to the shelf right next to Frank’s head. Apparently, though, Mikey didn’t see whatever Gerard did.

“What do you mean? Why does that matter?” Frank looked like he wanted to ask a question, but then decided against it.

“The Misfit’s CD…” Gerard looked at Frank (which was a mistake), “It would have fallen off and, er, hit you in the face.” Frank looked just as surprised as Mikey did, and he stood up carefully, walking over to where Mikey was, and taking a step right on the creaky floorboard. Sure enough, it rattled up the wall, shook the shelf, and The Misfit’s CD fell right where Frank’s face would have been.

[ _9\. 10._ ]

“Huh…” Frank said, just staring at his bed, and feeling Gerard’s eyes on him, but trying to ignore them. “Why do you care?” He turned to Gerard who was only a second too late tearing his eyes away from Frank’s ass.

“Well, I figured that if you were going to get hit in the face twice in one day, I kinda wanted to do it myself.” Gerard shrugged; it was a good answer, even if it wasn’t the truth.

“Welp,” Mikey said, “This has been sufficiently awkward. I’m just gonna go now.” He started towards the door, but before he left he turned and said, “Try to keep it in your pants.”

“Mikey!” They both exclaimed. They both looked at each other, completely shocked, before turning away, completely embarrassed. “That’s what I thought,” Mikey drawled before shutting the door.

They sat in silence until Frank said, “I should punch you in the face.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes. “You probably should.” He wasn’t expecting it, but the next thing he knew, his face hurt _really_ badly. “Mother _fuck_!” Gerard yelled, putting a hand to his nose, and jolting it back into place. He looked at Frank who was sitting on his bed, his face innocent. “What the fuck, Frank?” Gerard asked, waving his hands everywhere.

“I said I would punch you in the face.” Frank shrugged. “Seemed like enough warning to me.”

“You said you _should_ punch me in the face. The ‘s’ versus the ‘w’ makes a really big difference, believe it or not!” He shook his head, trying to clear it; it was not easy to be Gerard at this moment. To be in pain, and staring at _porn_ …Gerard was a bit of a masochist. He tried to avert his eyes.

“I thought you would have caught on,” Frank said. “I guess you’re really as fucking stupid as I thought you were.” He only got one laugh out before Gerard was pinning him to his bed, and took one good swing at Frank’s jaw. There was a crack, and Frank made a pained face as he jolted his jaw back into place without the use of his hands.

[ _9\. 8. 7._ ]

Gerard definitely hadn’t thought this whole straddling-the-most-attractive-thing-to-ever-exist thing through, but he didn’t really regret it. He leaned down as close as he could stand—the metallic smell of blood flooding his nostrils and going straight to his groin—and stared Frank right in the eye, desperately ignoring the buildup he was feeling in his pants. “I _will_ kill you,” Gerard threatened. “I promise.”

[ _6\. 5._ ]

Frank laughed maniacally, “You heard what Mikey said, Gerard.” He breathed heavily, his eyes flashing, “Keep it in your pants.” Gerard’s eyes flashed with rage, and he didn’t know why, but the next second his hands were closing around Frank’s neck (not tight enough to actually cut off air—like Frank needed it anyway—but not loose enough that it wouldn’t leave bruises).

[ _4._ ]

“What do you think would happen if I just broke your neck,” Gerard said, “And left you here to die?”

Frank smiled at him psychotically. “You’d come back,” Frank gasped. “I guess necrophilia is part of the whole vampire thing, right?” And the sheer mention of Gerard even thinking of someone else in that way is what seemed to snap the trigger in his mind. His hands applied more pressure, and closed in tighter on Frank’s neck. Frank started to turn a bit blue, but Gerard didn’t care; something in him enjoyed watching the light go out behind his eyes. And suddenly it wasn’t Frank clawing at him that had him on the floor, looking up at Frank with wide horrified eyes—it was that light…it was so familiar.

[ _3\. 2._ ]

Frank sat up, gasping for air, and looked at Gerard wildly. They both scrambled to their feet, and Frank stalked towards Gerard, baring his teeth. Tears were barely visible in his eyes. “If you ever do that again,” Frank growled. “I will rip your fucking throat out.”

Gerard made a strangled sound, like he was trying to throw up, and backed away from Frank so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet, and he knocked over a bunch of CD’s. Frank’s face grew questioning, “Gerard—” and there was a rush of wind.

The trailer was cold, the door was open, and Gerard was gone. Frank could feel his heart break, and damned himself to hell. _Fuck_.

[ _Reset: 100._ ]


	11. Like I Even Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck just happened?”
> 
> “I was going to ask you the same question.”
> 
> “Did he just – I mean, did he just, like, forgive you?”

** THE NEXT DAY (OCTOBER 25) **

 

“ _What did you do?!_ ” Frank wasn’t honestly expecting to be attacked when he was eating his cereal, but nonetheless, he felt himself hauled out of his seat and pushed against one of the wooden beams in the bar. He found himself staring into the absolutely raging, puff-eyed, red faced, tear-stained face of Mikey Way.

Frank swallowed hard, “What do you mean?” His feet were barely touching the ground. Mikey was an incredibly intimidating person when he wanted to be. He was like Voldemort, and Gerard was Dumbledore, and the only person Voldemort (Mikey) was scared of was Dumbledore (Gerard). Aside from Gerard, he didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything else.  Frank mentally slapped himself; _Did I really just compare Gerard and Mikey to Dumbledore and Voldemort?_

That would be a positive.

“ _What did you do to Gerard?!_ ” Mikey pushed him harder against the pole and Frank felt pain rocket through his face as his head hit the hard surface

“What did _I_ do to Gerard?” Frank asked incredulously. “ _Me_?! What did _I_ do to Gerard?” He used any energy he had in him to push Mikey away so forcefully that Mikey slammed into the table behind him. “Your psychotic brother almost killed me, okay?” Frank didn’t want to think about what had happened between him and Gerard. “His hands were literally about to snap my neck!” Frank pulled aside the hood of his sweatshirt to reveal the dark purple marks on his fair skin, and Mikey didn’t looked fazed at all, even if Lyndzey who was standing behind him, looked very worried.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Mikey snapped, pacing back and forth. “He couldn’t kill you, goddamnit; he’s the least hostile person I know! A guy shot him once and _Gerard_ was the one to apologize.” And Frank’s entire world seemed to stop turning. He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t move a single muscle; just stared directly in front of him.

“I-I don’t—” Frank shook his head. He didn’t understand. Gerard had seemed so violent…so angry.

“Of course you don’t!” Mikey yelled. “Because if you had taken the time to learn anything about him, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He took one step towards Frank and felt a firm hand fall on his shoulder. He would recognize the weight and strength of that hand anywhere. “Gerard,” Mikey turns around, completely shocked. “I was—”

“I know,” Gerard says, smiling slightly. “It’s okay. I-I’m fine.” He looks past Mikey’s head and takes one step forward, reaching towards Frank. Instinctively, Frank holds his breath and presses himself against the wooden beam. Gerard’s hand closes around the cup of coffee on the counter behind Frank and he pulls back slowly. He blows away the steam of the cup and looks at Mikey, “Frank was right, you know.”

“What?” Mikey and Frank ask him in surprise.

He shrugs, “There is a great chance I could have killed him.” He takes a sip of the coffee and listens to the deafening silence of the room, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. “I _could_ have. I _wanted_ to. But I wouldn’t. I don’t have it in me.” He shrugs again, “I guess I’m just a coward.”

Frank is the first person to take his chances, “A goddamned self-conceited dick? Yeah, you seem to be _very_ good at that.” He’s staring straight at Gerard, and something about Gerard’s stare is unnerving… he feels like he’s staring straight into Gerard’s soul, and _that_ is not even an exaggeration. He knows that what he said sounded incredibly rude in the ears of Mikey and Lyndzey and anyone else who happened to be around, but when Mikey opened his mouth, outraged, Gerard held up his hand.

His face was amused and he pointed at Frank, “Precisely.”

 _What the fuck is going on right now?_ Mikey asks himself, his glance flitting between Gerard and Frank. This was something brand new to witness; Gerard being a calm, sane human being.

[ **Fuck you too, Mikes!** ]

[ **Hey! I don’t think of you that way. Frank does.** ]

Mikey wasn’t sure he’d ever seen this happen. He didn’t remember… he never remembered, and it was a pain in the ass. “Uh…” he keeps looking between them, trying to figure out what just happened.

When Gerard is finished with his coffee he puts the cup back on the table and turns around to leave. Much like the night before, he threw a wave over his shoulder, but this time he added, “See you later, Frank.”

Back at the bar Mikey turns to Frank and says, “What the fuck just happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

“Did he just – I mean, did he just, like, _forgive_ you?”

Frank smiles brightly and throws his hands up, “’Ask for forgiveness and forgiveness you shall receive!’” Everyone looks at him confused and he just shrugs, “I’m pretty sure that’s _somewhere_ in the bible.”

 

** LATER THAT DAY **

 

Gerard sits in his trailer drawing comics and listening to Led Zeppelin on his and Frank’s stereo. He’s so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t even notice when the door opens and someone steps inside. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice when the music is shut off. It’s only when a hand closes on the top of his sketchbook that he realizes he’s not alone.

He jumps nearly a mile high and his entire body goes on red-alert, but he sighs and puts his hand over where his heart _would_ be if he had one. “Patrick, don’t do that to me! I almost killed you!”

“Oh, well,” Patrick smiles and sits down on the edge of Gerard’s bed. “I’m glad you didn’t do that!” Then he sits there awkwardly and looks around the trailer. He examines the CD collection that’s strewn on the floor, the dirty clothes tossed carelessly aside in a poor neglected corner, and the holes in the wall where Frank’s CD rack _should_ have been.

“Is there a reason you came to see me?” Gerard asks, setting his book aside.

“Uh, yeah there is actually…” He clears his throat and Gerard can tell this is making him very uncomfortable. “So I understand that _you’re_ the one who brought Alex here, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Gerard smiles. “Why?”

“Well I just noticed that he seems awfully close with Jack and upon asking him about it, he referred me to _you_.”

Gerard gives him a surprised look. “ _Me_?” Patrick nods shyly. “What – uh, what can I help you with, Patrick?”

“Well I was just – I was wondering how I might be able to do that,” he pauses. “Get close to someone, I mean. It’s just really difficult when the person you want to be with seems completely occupied with someone or something else.”

Gerard nods slowly, “Right, right.” He pursues his lips and then says, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Pete, would it?” Patrick goes bright red and looks away, scratching the back of his head. “I knew it!” Gerard exclaims excitedly. “I so totally fucking knew it! So what’s up? What’s wrong?”

“He seems really distant, and every time I try to talk to him or ask him to hang out, he just says he has something else to do.” Patrick looks genuinely hurt, and something inside of Gerard is triggered—he feels overly-protective of Patrick since he was the first person that Gerard really became friends with. Not to mention that they’re both vampires and vampires tend to have strong incommunicable bonds.

“Really?” Gerard asks. “Because I totally get the opposite vibe from him.” Patrick looks confused and Gerard sighs, “All I see is him wanting to be with you, okay? Wanting to be around you, in close proximity of you. The same room for God’s sake. He’s just going about this the wrong way. He _wants_ to talk to you. People like Pete are really passionate and amazing but they often have a lot of trouble trying to convey their emotions.” Gerard cocks his head to the side, “Now that I think of it, there are a few people like that around here.”

Patrick seems interested, “Like?”

“Well, Gabe for one.  Although, I think I just generally worry about his mental health. That kid isn’t too bright.” They both laugh. “I mean, it’s not just Gabe and Pete! It’s Bob and Mikey and even Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhmm.” Gerard nods.

“Well from what I hear, Frank is just like that. He doesn’t talk about his feelings ever. If something makes him upset he just lies and says he’s fine. I think—” Patrick stops abruptly.

“Yes?” Gerard prompts.

“I think he’s scared of what people will say if he starts to show his softer side.” Gerard nods because he _completely_ senses that from Frank so much that it’s not even funny. He hides everything with sarcasm or an overly chill persona. He’s not _really_ like that, Gerard knows just from living with him. He’s sensitive; he cries at movies and when he plays his guitar he gets so into it. When Frank has that guitar in his hands, he bears his entire soul and it’s so weak and vulnerable that it’s almost sad.

[ **I don’t know how to feel about that…** ]

[ **Take** **it as a compliment. You** **don’t get many of those from me.** ]

[ **Which** **seems a bit insane considering the nature of our** **relationship.** ]

“I think you’re exactly right.” Gerard nods. “Frank’s a really amazing guy but when he starts to _feel_? He’s basically a really big asshole.”

They both laugh again and then Patrick asks him, “So what do I do?”

“Talk to him. If he tries to make an excuse, you should tell him that what you have to say is really important and that he has to listen. That’s when you tell him.”

“Tell him?”

“Tell him you like him!”

“What?!”

“Patrick,” Gerard’s face is not amused, “this is _Pete_ we’re talking about. The kid thrives on supply and demand. He doesn’t want to put a down-payment on anything if he can spare himself the pain. It’s his money, and he wants it now!” Patrick laughs and then gives Gerard a grateful smile.

“Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem,” Gerard waves him off. Patrick then stands up and heads out the door, leaving one last smile before he’s finally gone. Gerard smiles after him and then after a second, the room gets a little cold and Gerard sighs in annoyance. “You know,” he starts. “I really fucking hate it when you do that.”

An ice cold breeze brushes the left side of his body and he makes an irritated face, “Stop.” The breeze gets colder and stronger and Gerard makes an angry sound. “Frank, _stop_!” There’s a ghostly chuckle that gets more human and loud by the second and then Frank is sitting on the bed next to Gerard, laughing his ass off. Gerard pushes him off the bed and smirks at the loud thump and pained cry it evoked.

“That was mean,” Frank says, sitting on his knees and folding his arms on the bed. He puts his head on his hands and looks at Gerard who, after a few seconds, shifts uncomfortably.

“You deserved it,” Gerard shrugs.

“Yeah I kinda did, didn’t I?” Frank scrunches up his nose and smile slightly when Gerard laughs. Gerard picks up his sketchbook and flips to the last page he was on. After a moment he realizes that Frank is still just staring at him. He peers over the top of his sketchbook at Frank and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you really think that?” He asks suddenly.

“What?”

“What you said to Patrick.”

Gerard turns a bit red, “Oh, well,” he clears his throat and hides behind his sketchpad. “Yeah, I guess.” He taps the paper with his pencil and then says, “I mean, you really are amazing, but most of the time you don’t tap into your overflowing amazingness. You just kinda shove it aside and attempt to draw water from your ‘Fuck You’ wishing well.” Frank snorts and pushes himself away from the bed, standing up and walking to his own bed. “It’s running dry, Frankie.”

“It’s running dry, Frankie.” Frank mocks.

“You’re a seven year old.” Gerard makes a face.

“Whatever you say, Gee,” and he flops down on his bed, drawing the covers over his head. Gerard rolls his eyes and goes back to drawing. He will later come to realize that he called Frank _Frankie_ , and in return got _Gee_ , and he didn’t even care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter has been completed for, like... half a year. I'm surprised that I forgot to upload it.


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